Milk
by Mark Geoffrey Norrish
Summary: Harry sets out to fix his old mistakes. Hermione meets someone more annoying than Malfoy, and their friends invite their families to take refuge at Hogwarts, as Voldemort's army clashes with the Ministry and a cabal of ritual sacrificers, and an unstoppable monster rampages through the streets of London. Sequel to Honey.
1. Three Families

Harry Potter sat in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express as it quietly rattled on toward London, well past midnight. Hermione was leaning against him, dozing; his arm was wrapped around her waist. A thick book, _On __the Applications of__ Geom__etr__y_, lay on the seat beside her, neatly bookmarked thirty pages in; on Harry's left sat a small confectionery box. The cabin felt empty with just the two of them, but no-one had felt comfortable enough to sit with them for long. Neville had spent time with them, but as the night wore on, he'd left to sit with some friends from Hufflepuff.

Outside, buildings from the outskirts of London rushed into view and past them, vague masses in the dark; the Express began slowing down and its whistle blew gently for a moment. They were only a few minutes from King's Cross. Harry gently shook Hermione awake.

"Mm?" she asked sleepily.

"We're almost here," he said. There was no risk of being overheard, but he still instinctively kept his voice low. "We should make sure everyone's awake and quiet." He took up his sweet box and offered it to her; she took out the last brownie and ate it.

He'd had the second-last a few hours ago, and the same Wakefulness Potion spread through her body. She stood up to stretch, leaving a cold patch against his chest.

"Thanks, Harry," she said. She picked up her book and put it away in her pouch around her neck, which was maybe a twentieth of the book's size. "Let's go."

Being used to using magic, they hadn't thought to bring lamps or candles, and the train was shrouded in darkness, but perhaps that was just as well. They held hands and felt their way down the corridor, knocking on each cabin door as they passed, making sure those inside were awake and knew not to do any magic. At the end of their carriage, they bumped into Sirius. Unlike the teenagers, he was still wearing his black robes.

"Everyone on this side is awake," he said, also instinctively keeping his voice down. "Are you both ready to go?"

"We're hardly going to take much luggage just for one day," said Hermione.

Harry's eyes flicked down to the glittery pink purse at his side. He actually did have rather a lot of stuff with him, but it shouldn't slow him down.

"Be careful," said Sirius.

"Really," said Harry.

They winced as the brakes squealed, and the train hove to a stop. Sirius opened the door, transformed, and sniffed experimentally. After a few seconds, he cautiously wagged his tail once and loped off the train, into the darkness.

Hermione pulled Harry's Invisibility Cloak out of her pouch and threw it on. They'd had a long argument, each insisting the other wear it and get the extra protection; Harry had won more out of stubbornness than reasoned debate. She ghosted away.

King's Cross had closed for the night hours ago, and the only noise was that of the late-night city traffic outside; passing cars and the beat of techno music from a nightclub. The air was still warm, and quite windy. Empty plastic bags and lolly wrappers blew against locked chicken wire gates.

Harry followed Hermione out, walking as quietly as he could, wand raised, expecting attack at any moment. It would be too much to hope that none of their enemies knew they were coming. Hopefully they wouldn't sink to attacking a train full of twelve-year-olds, although that might be optimistic. It hadn't stopped them before.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, beside him. "Up ahead is a locked gate. I can't open it without triggering everyone's Traces. Do you have Sirius' magic knife with you?"

"Give me a minute," said Harry. He stuck his hand into his purse, up to the shoulder, and rummaged around.

"We're only away from Hogwarts for less than one day," Hermione whispered. He could hear gravel crunching gently as she moved around. "What on Earth did you bring?"

"Everything," he said gloomily. "I'm used to using Summoning Charms as a sort of all-purpose filing system; it didn't occur to me that I wouldn't be able to use one here." He pushed a butterbeer aside and finally found the knife. "Got it."

Sirius walked up and transformed back. "I can't smell any trails fresher than two hours old," he said. "Except for one man who smells worse than I did two years ago. I'm pretty sure he's a homeless Muggle. He's asleep."

"Could he be a Polyjuiced enemy?" asked Hermione's disembodied voice.

"The smell's too authentic," said Sirius, tapping his nose. "Dog senses, remember? Anyway, it looks like we're clear."

"Stay on guard, and lead the students out," said Harry.

He followed the familiar route to the nearest gate; padlocked chicken wire, like the rest. He slid the blade in and jinked it around; the lock clicked open and fell into his open palm. He waved back to the train, pushed the gate open, and walked out.

Before the Express had set out, McGonagall had sent letters to all parents, telling them to pick up their children at noon the next day, and then sent Patronuses to amend that to three thirty a.m., since it was a safe bet that at least one of those owls would be intercepted. Muggle parents idled in cars lined up along the street, while a group of wizards and witches stood around, chatting quietly.

Harry walked into a street lamp's circle of light, and they stopped talking at once. He smiled and gave a thumbs-up.

"We're all here," he said. He stood off to one side, as the students filed out of the station, one or two abreast. They greeted their parents and were driven or Apparated away: ten, twenty, thirty …

"It looks like we're in the clear," Hermione whispered.

"I can't believe it," Harry replied, not looking around. "I was sure some idiot would give the game away by casting a light charm or something."

"Me too," she said. "I can't wait until we're back at Hogwarts. Should we go?"

"If anyone were going to attack, they'd hardly wait until half of us had already left," Harry said. "I'd better tell Sirius we're heading out."

"I'll go," said Hermione. "You'll probably need longer to talk to your family than I will for mine. I'll find you at Little Whinging when I'm done, and then we'll go and look for Cho?"

"Sounds good," he said. "See you in a minute, Hermione." And he Disapparated.

… … …

_This is the sequel to my previous novel, Honey, which you can reach from my profile (FF doesn't like hyperlinks). If you haven't already read that, do; this chapter is partly a recap and brimming with spoilers. If you have, then may I present Milk …_

… … …

One of the conditions of Harry's provisional Apparition licence was that he was forbidden from Apparating into public spaces such as urban roads, but this didn't really seem like the time or place to worry about that. He stuffed his wand and purse into his jean pockets and rang the doorbell, hoping that the Dursleys would be cooperative despite being woken at this hour and knowing they wouldn't.

The doorbell had been changed since last time; rather than the standard _ding-dong_, it tweeted a tasteless little tune. After a few notes it was, thankfully, drowned out by a series of furious barks. Harry blinked; Aunt Petunia hated animals, he couldn't imagine her letting one sleep in the house. Maybe Dudley had asked for one for Christmas and thrown a tantrum until she acquiesced? Harry couldn't imagine him actually walking or otherwise taking care of one, but it was the sort of thing he might have asked for anyway.

There came the thumping of heavy footfalls, and the lights came on, blindingly bright against Harry's night-adjusted eyes. The door swung open. Inside was Aunt Marge.

They stared at each other for a moment, then she slammed the door. It had a catch that automatically locked when shut; Harry stuck his knife in, twisted, and shoved it back open.

"Get out," Marge said, glaring.

"Wait," said Harry. The knife had fallen out of the keyhole; he caught it before it fell and dropped it back into his purse.

"Get out or I'll call the police for breaking and entering," she said. "No, wait, if you're here at this hour, you must have committed a crime already. I'm calling the police."

"Wait, please," said Harry. "This is important. I need to talk to Uncle Vernon. It's urgent."

She gave him a truly murderous glare.

"It'll be even more urgent when the police get here, you little rodent," she said.

"Look – Vernon, Petunia and Dudley are all in great danger," said Harry. "I have to warn them."

"You're a lying sneak," she said. "Get off my property, now."

"Will you just let me talk to – wait, _your_ property?" The penny dropped. "You mean –"

"I mean," she said. Her voice shook for the barest moment. "That they went to pick Dudders up from school two days ago, and there was a – car crash. And – now I'm staying here while they sort out the estate." Her voice hardened. "And I'm certainly taking in no criminal charity cases in the meantime."

"Of course," Harry said to himself. "Of course they did. Attack the source, while they're away from home and safety."

"What are you talking about, you hooligan? In fact, I don't care. Get off my property, now, or I'll charge you with trespass, too."

"Why did I wait until term ended?" Harry said. "Why did I give them time to get organised? Hermione!" He took off at a run, vaulted over the hedges and out of Marge's sight, and Disapparated.

Hermione's parents lived in a suite in an inner-city high-rise apartment block; when Harry Apparated outside, two Muggles were passing by. They didn't notice him appearing out of thin air, but neither could miss the crack of displaced air, and stared at him.

"Er," he said. "Don't mind me, that was just a, er, really loud pop from my bubblegum."

Both Muggles shrugged and went about their business.

Harry hurried over to the main gate. It was electronically locked; he wasn't sure whether the knife would work on it. He wasn't confident he could Apparate precisely up six storeys, either, so he buzzed the intercom for apartment 608.

"Hello?" came Hermione's voice.

He exhaled with relief. "It's me," he said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. My parents are just waking up. Why wouldn't I be fine? We haven't been apart for two minutes. How did you persuade the Dursleys so quickly?"

"Can you open the doors for me?" he asked.

"What's our first password? The fruit one?"

"Banana," he said. On her suggestion, they had spent a few minutes randomly flipping through a dictionary, coming up with call-and-response code phrases against impostors. They planned to discard each after use, in case they were overheard. "And the second half?"

"Needle." There came a click. "The door should be unlocked now. I'll have to send the lift too, hang on …"

A minute later, he knocked on her apartment's door. There came the padding of light feet and the door opened. Behind was a girl who might have been Hermione at age twelve, had she had short dyed-black hair and a glower. She wore boxers and a night shirt, both dark grey.

"Hello," said Harry. "You must be Hermione's sister? Tess?"

"'Lo," she mumbled. "C'mon in. Shut th' door b'hind you."

He followed her into the Grangers' maisonette, into their living room, which was much as he remembered it from his last visit: cluttered with books and personal projects and radiating an air of being very lived-in. There were bookshelves lining the walls, charcoal sketches over them, and four worktables overlooking a wall window. One, presumably designated for Hermione, was empty; the other three had a stripped-down personal computer beside some tools and spare components; a selection of artist's pencils and a canvas with a photo-realistic sketch of circling vultures; and a pile of books on ancient Egyptian culture, the life and times of JS Bach, and the Cold War.

Hermione had a kettle on; her parents were sitting on a couch, rubbing sleep out of their eyes. Tess hopped up onto the table with the sketch and gave Harry a long look. Her eyes were much darker than Hermione's, but possessed the same incisive intelligence.

"Hello," said her father, Em Granger. "What's going on? Oni just showed up out of the blue, saying she had to tell us something. I thought we were supposed to be picking you up tomorrow afternoon?"

"Hello," said Harry, then, to Hermione, "How much have you told them?"

"I – er – might have made a few tactical omissions in my letters home," she said, blushing.

Her parents exchanged glances.

"I thought we agreed to total honesty," said Harry.

"Well," said Hermione. "That is to say. Yes, I suppose so."

"Okay," said Harry. "Then we have to get out of here. Now. They're coming."

"What, already?" said Hermione. "I thought we had at least a few days before he revived again."

There was a delicate silence.

"Why don't you start from the start?" said her mother, Danni, looking at Harry. "Take a seat."

He shot Hermione an apologetic look and sat at the table with the books. "Okay. Let me think.

"It all began a bit more than a year ago, when Lord Voldemort, the Dark Wizard who was first defeated by a … spell misfire when I was a baby, managed to resurrect himself," Harry began. "He talked to me and told me that there was a conspiracy of ancient witches and wizards, headed by Albus Dumbledore, which performed a sacrificial ritual on Hogwarts graduates, mostly Muggle-borns. This obviously would have made Hermione a target. He persuaded me to help him work against Dumbledore in order to bring down the conspiracy. When that was done, he promised he would disband the Death Eaters to prevent their own blood purist agenda."

Em, Danni and Tess all exchanged glances. Em opened his mouth to interrupt, but Danni touched his arm and he stayed silent. Harry continued.

"Most people didn't believe he was really back, and he stayed undetected for a while. We tried to keep it that way. Then there came an attack on the wizarding world, when Hermione and I were at the circus. We suspected it was Dumbledore moving to destabilise the Ministry and seize power. Then there was another attack, on Hogsmeade, which killed two students. We met the perpetrator, the so-called Marionette Man, who told us he lost his childhood friends to the sacrificers. We then went with Voldemort to the Ministry of Magic main building. There was a prophecy about him and me being kept there; we later found out that one of us is destined to kill the other."

"It's less bad than it sounds," Hermione put in.

Harry gave her a sideways look. She really hadn't told them anything. Sensible of her. "We got the prophecy," he went on, "of course, but the Marionette Man showed up again and brought the building down on us. We barely escaped with our lives and covers, but Voldemort was revealed to the world. The Minister was overthrown, and a new man, Scrimgeour, replaced him. A few months after that, Hogwarts was attacked by the Marionette man. We helped fight off the attack and tracked him down. We cornered him, but then he … killed Ron, and got away again."

Danni sucked in air through her teeth. "You told us that the _Prophet_ article was exaggerated," she said to Hermione.

"Um," Hermione said in a very small voice. "Yes. I – I thought you'd panic and pull me out of Hogwarts if you knew the truth."

"_Panic?_" Danni asked. "No, _panicking_ is where I pull you out because, reading between the lines, there are blood supremacists at your school who regularly threaten you, and I doubt your teachers are capable or willing to protect you. Pulling you out because your classmate was _killed __while you watched_ is quite rational! It could so easily have been you, Oni."

"That's a fair point, actually," Harry said, turning to Hermione. "How do you know Voldemort didn't booby trap your body the same way he did Ron's, after the Ministry?"

"I checked with Madame Pomfrey two days ago," said Hermione. "There's no ink on my body and she couldn't find any residual magic. I suppose Voldemort must have thought I'd be likelier to check myself thoroughly, and if that had happened, the game would have been up."

"Maybe," said Harry. "Mrs Gran – er, Frobisher, hear me out, please. After that, Dumbledore took over as Minister. In retaliation, we and Voldemort cooked up a plan to kill him, which mostly worked. But there were problems. One, it turned out that Dumbledore was keeping the sacrificers from taking too many people. With him gone, there's nothing stopping them from committing mass abductions and murders. And if they do the rituals more, they'll become even more powerful.

"Two, Dolores Umbridge, the current Minister for Magic and a particularly nasty blood purist, killed Voldemort. Judging by Voldemort's last words, we think she escaped with the Elder Wand, which, according to legend and how well Dumbledore fought, makes the wielder unbeatable in battle. We expect her to also try to abduct and sacrifice people, especially students. She might be an even bigger problem than the older sacrificers, because she has control of the Ministry. Not only does that include the DMLE, but she also has instruments monitoring underage magic use.

"Three, it turns out that Voldemort was actually the one behind the Marionette Man, who was secretly our Defence professor in disguise. That makes three factions, all against us."

"Didn't you just say Voldemort was killed?" said Em. "By this Umbridge character?"

"This is the fourth time he's died that I know of, if you count the diary," said Harry. "He's come back to life faster each time; I think maybe he's getting better, what with all the practice."

"So he's revived already?" said Hermione in dismay. "I thought we'd have another week or two at least. How do you know?"

"Because the Dursleys are dead," he said.

There was a pause.

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione. "How –?"

"Aunt Marge said it was a car crash," said Harry. "When I was a kid and they didn't want me to know about magic, that's how they told me my parents died. Voldemort's read my mind and he likes to think he has a sense of humour, so …"

Hermione walked over and hugged him side-on. Em opened his mouth again, and again Danni touched his arm to keep him quiet.

"He must have targeted them to undermine my mother's blood sacrifice defence charm," Harry went on. "He's probably been planning it for a year at least. The charm kept his followers out, but he personally is immune to it because he was revived with my blood, so it must have been him."

"He _was_ revived with your blood," Hermione stressed. "But that body was destroyed. His new form wouldn't be made of your blood. I mean, your psychic link is gone, isn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "Either way, he or someone working for him killed them to get at me. He's … not afraid, exactly … he's wary of me because the prophecy says I have a shot at killing him, but he actually respects you; he once called you 'the nearest thing to a competent student Hogwarts has'. So that means he's going to get at you in the same way. We're lucky they haven't been here already."

"Er, trying to see the forest rather than the trees," said Em, "a lot of violence has been going on, and Harry's family has already been attacked. Okay, if you say that we're likely to be next, we'll believe you; you'd know better than we would. You think we should go into hiding?"

"What?" said Tess, indignant enough to stop mumbling. "I only just started high school!"

"Yes," said Hermione, "sorry, Tess, but Voldemort, the sacrificers, the Ministry – they really aren't nice people. I don't think it'd be too hard to escape them, though. None of them understands Muggles at all; if you moved out of London and changed your names, I should think that would be enough, although I'd sleep easier if you left Britain altogether."

Em and Danni exchanged glances. He continued. "We trust your judgement, Oni. You have more information and experience in this than we do. But what about you? Both of you? You're obviously in even more danger, and you're children. If anyone should be fleeing, it's you."

"I can't," said Harry. "The prophecy says that either I or Voldemort will kill the other. If I fight him, win or lose that's fine, because the prophecy doesn't say that no-one else could kill him if I failed; but if I go into hiding, there'll be nothing that can stop him from taking over the world, and he knows this."

"I'm staying with him," said Hermione.

Her mother opened her mouth to argue.

"You can't stop me, Mum, not any more," said Hermione. "I can Apparate, for one thing. Sorry."

"You're fifteen," said Danni. "Children shouldn't fight in wars. Remember how you said that after you saw the documentary about Uganda?"

"That was when I really was a child," Hermione said quietly. "Mum. There's nowhere truly safe for me, not any more. My only chance is if we win."

"If it's not safe," said Tess, "why're you here?"

"We assume the post is being intercepted," said Hermione, "so we couldn't just write you a letter. And even if we did, we didn't think you'd go into hiding without a face-to-face discussion. Most families don't trust their children quite that much. Thank you for believing me. But yes, with those three factions out there, it's dangerous, so we're not staying here for long. Some of the Professors made Portkeys back to Hogwarts, and they're set to trigger at midnight. We hope that most of the students will get their families to flee in that time, and that no-one is attacked. It's very soon; our enemies hopefully aren't organised enough to do much on such short notice."

"We're setting up Hogwarts as a safe zone," said Harry. "It's a fortress, and there are enough of us that we should be able to hold it. We mean to dig in and hope the three enemy groups fight each other to a standstill. Muggles are welcome too, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Because it's hiding out in the middle of a war zone?" Danni asked.

Hermione exchanged glances with Harry.

"Well, yes," said Hermione. "Also, there are Muggle-Repelling Charms and doors that you need wands to open and so on, and I get the feeling no-one will –"

"Hold the phone," said Em. "If Hogwarts isn't safe enough, and if you're planning on _staying_ at Hogwarts –"

"Yes," said Hermione.

There was a pause.

"You'd better hurry up and pack," she added. Her voice shook. "At noon, the Ministry is going to realise that they've been had, and they won't be happy. Good luck and goodbye, mum, dad, Tess." She stood and hugged each in turn.

"What – now?" said Danni. "But you just got here. Aren't you at least going to spend the night? We could make up a couch …"

"We don't have the time," said Hermione. "We have to pick up a friend of Harry's and visit Diagon Alley before midnight tomorrow."

"That won't take twenty-three hours," Danni said.

"We expect to have to make a bit of a detour," Hermione said. "I'll see you all later. Good luck. I'm sorry." Harry took her hand, and they Disapparated.

They appeared in a pasture, empty except for a few sleeping cows. Hermione sat down.

"That was," she said, "easier than I'd expected."

Harry knelt down and gave her a hug. They stayed that way for a few minutes.

At length, she stretched, and they stood back up.

"Which way is it from here?" she asked.

"Give me a minute," said Harry. He put his hand over his purse. "Up." His Firebolt jumped into his hand; he mounted it and kicked off.

The sky was overcast here, with stars peeking out between the cloud cover. It was still quite warm, even at night, and the air was calmer than in London. The fields were reduced to dark grey blurs from the air. As he got higher, the landscape spread out below him. In most directions were more fields, chequered with matte black which might have been woods. In another was black with white spots: stars reflected in a lake, mirror-smooth in the still air. Straight ahead was a black polygon on a dark grey background: a manor house. Beyond it was more black with coloured lights, probably a village.

Harry landed and dismounted. "This way," he said, and they set off.

"Could we just fly there?" Hermione asked hopefully, after a minute, when she slipped on something she didn't choose to investigate.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "There are probably defences against the air, like at Hogwarts."

"Mm, it'd be pretty awkward if I had to heal a broken arm here," she said. "With our Traces."

"Do you know how?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure we've never learnt any medical magic in Charms."

"In theory, yes," Hermione said. "I've never done it before, though, and I'd like to have someone with experience with me for my first time."

There was a beat.

"I thought I might like to be a Healer," she continued, "but it's supposed to be really competitive, so to get a head start I've been reading a few books on medical magic, ever since we had careers advice."

"I thought you were going for the Auror stream," said Harry.

"They both have the same subjects," said Hermione. "Charms, Transfiguration, Defence, Herbology and Potions. And I'll stick with Arithmancy and Runes, of course. Like I said, they're competitive enough that I'd really better have as many NEWTs as possible. I thought about keeping Care of Magical Creatures too, but Professor McGonagall told me she wouldn't let me have another Time-Turner, not after how frazzled I was in third year."

He shook his head. She was mad. As if she wouldn't get into whatever she wanted, when she'd get at least five Outstanding NEWTs and probably special commendations in all of them.

They topped a rise, and Malfoy Manor came into view below them: huge, dark and ominous.

"Ugh," said Harry.

"No wonder Malfoy's such a creep," Hermione said.

"Pretty sure that's just him," said Harry. "Put the Cloak back on."

"I still say it should be you wearing it," she said, but shrugged into it and vanished from sight anyway.

"Look, it's my fault we're here in the first place," said Harry. "I'm not letting you take any more risks for my sake than absolutely necessary."

"I know you won't," Hermione said unhappily.

The Manor was at the bottom of a small valley. A high iron fence tipped with scout arrowheads was in their way, forcing them to go fifty yards around to get to the front gate. There was a silver bell and a repeating snake motif.

Harry tried the gate. "Locked," he said.

"The knife?" suggested Hermione.

Harry looked at the gate. "On a Malfoy's property? I'd bet my Firebolt it's warded against that."

"How will we get in, then?"

Harry reached up a tapped the bell with his fingernail. In a bass voice, it aahed the first eight notes of a minor key version of _Chimes of Westminster_, then stilled. A few seconds later, there was a pop, and a house-elf appeared behind the gate, holding a candle. He looked younger than Dobby; the Malfoys must have found a replacement.

"This is a most inappropriate hour," he said with a sniff.

"I'm a … friend of Draco's," said Harry. "I have to speak to him. It's urgent."

The house-elf frowned but nodded. "Who shall Blat say is calling, sir?"

A voice in Harry's head dared him to say 'My name is Cho Chang'.

"Brenton O'Sullivan," he said at random.

Blat blinked, then narrowed his eyes and raised a hand, fingers poised to snap and unleash house-elf magic.

"_Petrificus totalus_," said Hermione. There was a flash, and the elf went rigid and fell over backward, dropping his candle. She pushed her hood back and just gave Harry a look.

"Um, thanks," said Harry. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Someone the elf doesn't recognise shows up in the early hours and gives a name he's never heard after noticeable hesitation?" she said. "Honestly, I can't believe people thought you were lying when you said you didn't enter the Triwizard Tournament, not when that's your standard."

"You should be glad I didn't say the first thing to come to mind," Harry replied. "Besides, what was I supposed to have said? He probably knows most of Malfoys friends' names and faces, and I bet I'm on a blacklist."

Hermione rolled her eyes, shook her head and turned instead to Blat.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I really am, I know you were only doing your job. I don't hate house-elves, but …"

"Hermione," Harry said. "Our Traces. We don't have much time."

"Try the knife now," she said. "He was about to blast you through the gate, so he must have disabled any spells on it for fear of a misfire."

He slid it in; the lock turned, and the gate swung silently open.

"It's incredible how incautious wizards, and House Elves, are about Invisibility Cloaks," said Hermione, putting her hood back up as they walked up the paved path to the manor. "I can't count how many times you've got past security by being invisible, when the people who set up the security know that these cloaks exist."

"Well, how many precautions have you made against them?" Harry asked. "They're a little hard to block, in case you hadn't noticed."

There were hedges on either side of the path, with occasional gaps that made it look like a maze. Harry was sure he saw a pair of eyes glinting at him from ground level, but didn't break pace. As they reached the front door, it swung open, revealing Narcissa, who wore a nightgown and hair rollers, and Draco Malfoy, in a dimly-lit greeting room. Both had their wands lit and pointed at Harry.

"Potter," Malfoy spat. "I'm going to kill that stupid elf. What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk to your father," said Harry. "Is he in?"

"No," said Malfoy.

"When will he be back?"

"Get off my family's property or I'll curse you."

"_Expelliarmus,_" said Hermione, from somewhere behind Malfoy; his wand flew from his hand and disappeared as she caught it and hid it under the Cloak. The Malfoys spun round in surprise, and Narcissa raised her wand at where Hermione's voice had come.

"_Expelliarmus,_" said Harry, and caught her wand. He walked past the threshold and kicked the door shut.

"So," said Malfoy coolly, glaring at him, "you brought the Mud– Dolohov, with an Invisibility Cloak. What do you want?"

"Granger, actually," Hermione corrected, and her voice came from about ten away from where it had been last time. "And your father, Harry already said."

"Or can you at least tell us where _some_ Death Eater is?" asked Harry. "We're actually looking for Cho Chang, from school; they might not have told either of you about her. We think Lucius would know where she is, but, really, any of the high-ranking ones will do."

"Oh, is _she_ all you want?" Narcissa said. "If you want _that_ trollop, take her and welcome. She's done nothing but eat and complain since she got here."

"She's here?" Hermione asked. From her voice, she was on the far side of the room by now.

"What's this?" Malfoy asked.

His mother shushed him. "Locked in the attic," she said, pointing. "Up the spiral staircase two flights and through the trapdoor. May we have our wands back, now?"

"We'll leave them once we have Cho," Harry said. "Not that I don't trust you but, well. Get back, or I'll Stun you."

"Hmph," said Narcissa, but she backed off and motioned her son to do the same. He obeyed with a scowl.

There came a flurry of distant pops.

"AURORS!" she shouted. "HELP! IN HERE, I'M BEING ROBBED BY –"

"_Stupefy_," said Harry, and she fell unconscious, and Draco a moment later.

They ran upstairs, Harry using the borrowed wand for light. He didn't get more than glimpses of the Manor, except that it was slathered in green wallpaper and endless silver snake motifs. No wonder Malfoy had wanted to be a Slytherin; the décor would be unbearable for anyone else.

There was a click from downstairs, and the shouting of Aurors, at the same moment Harry got to the top of the spiral stairs. There was a trapdoor above them; Harry pulled out his knife for it.

From downstairs, they could hear Malfoy shouting and his mother's higher voice calmly talking over his; he made out the word 'upstairs'.

"Go on ahead, Harry," said Hermione. "_Glisseo_." She Summoned a silver candlestick holder, Transfigured it into a mass of ball bearings, and threw them down. Harry nodded and climbed through the wreckage of the trapdoor, leaving her to delay the Aurors.

The attic was about four yards square with a triangular roof three yards high at the highest point, support beams at regular intervals. It looked to be bare wood panelling, although, other than the light from Narcissa's wand, it was dark. At the far end was Cho, dressed in a pristine white tunic and with her hands over her head, lying face down on the floor. Her hair was an inch or two longer than before and rather greasy; her nails were ragged.

"Don't hurt me!" she cried.

"_Depilato_," he said. The jinx connected, and all her hair fell out, revealing a plain white scalp.

She looked up. "Um?" she said. "Isn't that – Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "and Hermione. Sorry about that; we've had bad experience with people with hair. I've got a hat in here somewhere; hang on. _Accio __hat__._" A pointed witch's hat flew out of his purse and into his hand; he offered it and Narcissa's wand to her. "I'll get you some regrowth potion later."

"I'm sure there's a story behind that," she said, fitting the hat on.

"Yeah, I'm sure there is," he said shortly. "Are you oh – bloody hell."

He finally noticed her right arm. From the palm of her hand, along her forearm and bicep and down past her short sleeve were angry red wounds. Words, cut with a knife. She followed his gaze and brought her arm back, hiding them.

"We'll get that looked at right away, I promise," he said. "But we have to get out of here first."

Cho nodded. "Who's that downstairs? Death Eaters, Aurors?"

"Bad guys," Harry said.

Her hood down, Hermione climbed through the trapdoor and repaired and locked it. "Hello. Can you Apparate?"

"Oh, hello," said Cho. "Badly. But there are wards against that anyway."

"Okay," said Hermione. "We have a Portkey. Actually we have four, between us."

"I think there are wards against those too," said Cho. "I've overheard a few conversations, and they've talked about security once or twice."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.

"I didn't know you could ward against Portkeys," he said. "Do we have a backup backup plan?"

"We could go out through a window," she suggested. "There are some downstairs."

"Past the troop of Aurors?" he replied.

There came a muffled _eeeeee_ and a crash.

"The troop of _angry_ Aurors?" he amended.

"Through the roof, then," said Hermione. "_Evanesco struts_."

They were quite a lot bigger than what they had practised on last year in Transfiguration, but she still managed to Vanish bits of the support beams on the far side of the attic. The heavy slate roof promptly fell in, revealing the sky and throwing up a cloud of dust.

They raised their shirts over their mouths and squinted against the dust. Harry summoned his Firebolt again.

"Cho, could you get in here, please?" asked Hermione, holding out her bag.

Cho stared at it; it was only six inches across. "I can't tell you how much I doubt that," she said.

"Oh, never mind," said Hermione, and climbed in herself.

"?" asked Cho, pointing.

Harry took the bag and placed it around his neck. "It's a racing broom; it isn't great with one passenger, let alone two," he explained, and mounted the broom. "Come on."

Cho sat and wrapped her arms around him. "I meant, how did she fit in there?"

"Magic," Harry explained, and kicked off.

Cho half-turned and threw a spell at the attic; it burst into flames as the Aurors forced their way through the trapdoor.

He accelerated away, touching down a few hundred yards from the manor. He tapped Hermione's bag; she climbed out, slipped, and fell to the ground in a heap.

"Sorry," he said, giving her his hand.

"Are we clear?" she asked, then turned to the manor. Cho's fire had spread quickly. "Oh."

"They have magic; they can deal with it," Harry dismissed.

"Speaking of which," said Cho, swishing Narcissa's wand and eliciting a weak _fft_ and a few sparks, "you don't have my wand, would you? This one isn't a very good fit for me."

"No such luck," said Harry. "The Flamels have it, assuming they didn't destroy it six months ago. Try this one." He handed over Draco's wand and pointed his own into his purse. "_Accio __bread knife__._" One of the Hogwarts knives zoomed out and into his hand.

"The first one's better," said Cho, giving Draco's wand a few desultory flicks before handing it back. Harry put it into a pocket. He might give it back to Malfoy later. Someday.

"Wait a moment," said Hermione, rooting around in her bag, "Cho's clothes might have some sort of tracking spell on them. Harry, turn around. _Inter__ex_."

"Shame I can't keep it," said Cho, "it's spelled to stay clean. They wanted something extra-visible in case I ever tried to escape."

"How thoughtful of them," Hermione replied.

When he turned back, Cho was dressed in one of Hermione's robes and checking herself over. Hermione discarded the Switched tunic and hit it with a Blasting Charm for good measure.

"Hmm, I forgot to bring socks and shoes," Hermione said. "Sorry; I'll lend you some when we get back to Hogwarts."

"That's not all you forgot," Cho said, adjusting the upper part.

Harry held out both arms; Hermione took his right. Cho took his left, after a moment's hesitation.

"Lights out and no magic," said Hermione. "The Ministry doesn't know about this rendezvous yet."

"_Trigger __knife__ Portkey._" said Harry.


	2. Meet Kam

There was the familiar nauseous hook-behind-the-navel feeling, and they reappeared in a concrete corridor; they staggered but kept their feet. It was quiet, with only a persistent dripping noise and a background hum. There was a row of fans above a grate in the roof, which cast rotating shadows from the fluorescent lights of the floor above. There was a strong smell of citrus and ammonia.

"Wow," Cho murmured, her voice low instinctively. "Where are we?"

"We don't know, exactly," Hermione whispered back. "Our side's trying to keep information compartmentalised. Somewhere in London, I think. There's an old bomb shelter up ahead that we're using as a safe house. Don't use your wand unless you absolutely have to; we don't want our Traces to go off again."

They walked along silently, Harry in the lead, Hermione in the rear and presently invisible again, Cho between them, barefoot. Lupin had been the one to, regretfully, suggest they spray lemon juice around; it scrambled his sense of smell, and Voldemort had most of the werewolves on his side.

Soon enough, the corridor forked. Harry and Hermione had both memorised the route and took the left path without hesitation. The roof switched to concrete, lit by rows of fluorescent tubes, some of them broken. There came the sound of traffic overhead, and the rattle of poorly-maintained machinery. The corridor forked again, and they went into one with grates for both ceiling and floor. Water ran out of a crack in the wall; the metal directly under it had rusted and looked like one good kick would snap it off.

A few turns later, and they went into a tunnel, lit only by radiance from the corridor behind; the lights overhead were disconnected from the power. Twenty yards on, it ended with a broad steel door. Harry walked up and knocked once, then thrice rapidly. There was a pause for a minute, and he tried again, frowning. He raised his wand, but then the door swung open.

"Sirius!" said Harry. "Where were you?"

"Ssh!" Hermione hissed, taking off the Cloak again, tying it around her waist, and tucking it mostly under her shirt so that it looked like an odd skirt.

Sirius hurried them inside and shut the door behind, throwing two deadbolts. Inside was a small communal area. There were blankets slung around the floor like carpets; half a dozen sleeping bags; a few low couches; some empty tins in a corner, and long rows of full ones against a wall; Harry's old Sneakoscope, inert and balanced silently on its end; and three oil lamps attached to the ceiling, barely two yards high. There was an open hatch in one corner, with metal rungs for climbing down. Harry noticed Sirius' shirt had some buttons in the wrong holes.

"Hello, Harry, ladies," said Sirius. "Welcome to Chateau Misere. You're back early; I was napping."

"It's pronounced Château Misère," said Hermione.

"Like I said," said Sirius, fixing his buttons and turning to Cho. "You must be Cho. I'm Sirius Black. I teach Transfig now."

"Where did I put it …" said Hermione, and rummaged around in her pouch, putting her arm in up to the elbow. She pulled out a bag with a red pentagram on the side and began looking through that. Presently, she found a small blue bottle at the base of the rows of tins and offered it to Cho. She took it and glanced at Harry with a question in her eyes. He nodded.

She nodded and emptied the bottle. She licked her lips.

"Sweet," she said. "I thought medical potions all tasted disgusting, heh."

"It's actually a willpower enhancing potion," said Harry. "It only lasts for a few seconds."

"What?" Cho said abruptly. "Why would you make me drink that?"

"In case you were under the Imperius Curse," said Hermione. "The potion lasts just long enough for someone to break out of it. Snape invented it after the last war ended. We can't overuse it; he can't make it very fast."

"He claims," Sirius muttered. Hermione gave him a sharp look.

"Oh," said Cho. "That's useful. But no, I was never Imperiused. Why would they bother putting me under Imperius if they were just going to leave me in that stupid attic?"

"Well, it's the classic traitor con, isn't it?" said Sirius. "Abduct someone, Imperius them, leave them where they'll be easy to rescue, and then you have a double agent right in the middle of their camp. He used it at least twice in the last war; we were on guard for the second one. Hey, what happened to your hand?"

The robe Hermione had given to Cho was long-sleeved, hiding the damage to her arm, but they could still see the cuts on her palm, in the shape of the letters I AM A.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," she said, closing her hand again to hide the scars. "I was so glad when they gave the order that only women were allowed to deal with me, until she took it on herself to interrogate me. I don't even know what she wanted me to tell her, she was completely incoherent." She slumped into a couch. "A couple of other Death Eaters pulled her off me after a while, when they heard me screaming. I think they forbade her from coming back, because I didn't seen her after that one time."

"We can fix it," said Harry. He sat on the arm of the couch and patted her shoulder. "Hermione, you have medical stuff in your pouch, right? Healing salves and so on?"

"Wait until we can use our wands," said Cho. "I think her knife was cursed; this should have healed already if it weren't."

Nobody mentioned that cursed wounds often could never heal.

"They didn't try to persuade you that he was actually a good guy, did they?" Hermione tentatively asked.

Cho stared. "What? No. Of course not. Well, Bellatrix shouted something about purity of cause, but – who on Earth could possibly be stupid enough to believe the _Death Eaters_ were good guys after _that?_"

"Er," Harry said. "I'm just saying, he can be pretty eloquent when he tries."

Cho snorted. "Maybe, but Death Eaters are all-purpose bigots, not just against Muggle-borns. It'd make as much sense for me to side with them as it would for Hermione."

At that moment came a clanging from the hatch. A woman in her twenties with long blonde hair climbed out. Harry and Hermione breathed sighs of relief.

"Hello," she said. "Harry Potter, right? And you must be Hermione Granger and Cho Chang. My name's Emily; I'm a friend of Sirius'. Sorry; I thought you weren't arriving for a while yet."

Her hair looked like it had recently been pulled out of a braid and not properly cared for, and while her black shirt and pants were neat, she smelt slightly sweaty.

"No worries," said Harry. "We'd assumed he'd have hidden Cho, and that we'd have had to spend ages finding her."

"Why did you?" Cho asked. "Look for me, I mean? I mean I'm just a schoolgirl; surely there are more important targets when you're fighting someone like You-Know-Who."

"Saving everyone we can really does matter, especially with at least three sacrificers still active," said Harry. "And besides, it was, um, kind of my fault you were there in the first place."

"Sacrificers?" Cho repeated. "Is You-Know-Who using Dark rituals of some sort?"

"It's your turn to explain," Harry told Hermione.

"Okay," she said. "Let's see …" She went over what Harry had told her parents, but went into how she and Harry had rescued Cho from the Flamels, only to deliver her to the Death Eaters. "So it's sort of our fault Voldemort" Cho and Emily flinched "had you at all; we thought we owed it to you to get you out, as a sort of non-verbal apology."

Cho stared at them.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, that _is_ your fault. Harry, you sided with You-Know-Who _right after seeing him murder my boyfriend_. Why would – _how_ could you believe him, then of all times? He's tried to kill you, too, like, three times. And Hermione, you're a Muggle-born, and you're supposed to be smart. How did that not strike you as a bad idea?"

Harry took a step backward. "Well, I – it's easy for you to say, but I –"

"The reason _why_ it's easy for me to say that," said Cho, "is because it's a _really simple concept_. You don't give the benefit of doubt to a blatantly unreformed serial murderer!"

"It's not that easy!" he protested. "He's really persuasive – you wouldn't believe it, but he has to be to get the giants on his side, when the Death Eaters hate giants as much as they do Muggle-borns –"

"Oh, well, if he can talk the _giants_ over, clearly he must be the epitome of eloquence –"

"He just – when he talks, what he says makes _sense_, you can't just ignore it –"

"Yes you can!" Cho shouted back. "Everyone knows that You-Know-Who is a liar, and when a liar talks, you _ignore_ him because he _lies!_"

They glared at one another in ringing silence, but only for a moment. From the corridor outside came a voice, singing a bouncy little tune.

"_Two baby kids in a tzatziki tree_

_But you don't like 'em gift-wrapped so that's double for me_

_Baba da bup, badaa_

_Babada daba dabee …"_

"What in the world?" Sirius murmured.

There were three knocks at the door. They all went rigid: that wasn't the signal.

"Let me in, let me in," said the voice. It was deep, very male, and forever had a slight catch, like that of one enjoying a private joke.

Sirius nodded to Emily and she scurried back down the ladder. Hermione reached into her pouch and pulled out an old boot: their second Portkey. She motioned Harry and Cho over; each put a hand on the boot.

"Who's there?" Sirius called, drawing his wand.

"The name's Kam," answered the voice. "Spelt with a K."

"How did you find this place?" Sirius asked.

"I followed the last three of you," Kam replied. "And the shouting just now, too. I've heard some of what you've been saying about these sacrificers, and let me tell you, I'm deeply concerned. Very deeply concerned."

There was a gentle clatter, and Harry's eyes followed it to his Sneakoscope, which had fallen onto its side. That wasn't supposed to happen. Either Kam was trustworthy, and it was supposed to stay upright, or he wasn't, and it was supposed to spin and light up and whistle …

Hermione's eyes widened, and she furiously shook her head at Sirius. He saw and nodded.

"Uh, Kam," he said, "this isn't a meeting place. We'll have a public meeting at Diagon Alley tomorrow morning."

"But it's not safe out here," Kam replied. "I should know. And I have information about the sacrificers that could help you."

Sirius glanced back at the teenagers. Hermione kept shaking her head and now mouthed 'lying', and Harry extended a thumbs-down. Cho shrugged uneasily, not really certain whether she had a vote.

"Find us at Diagon Alley tomorrow," Sirius said. "We'll talk then."

"This is actually rather urgent," said Kam. "I don't think it can wait until then. It's a matter of life and death, you see. You need to open the door."

Harry muttered to Hermione, "Are you sure?"

"Listen for the spaces between his words," she undertoned back cryptically, then, aloud, "I'm sorry, Kam, but we can't open up now."

"But you must," he replied.

"We can't," she repeated.

"You're willing to have those lives on your conscience?" he asked.

Her mouth set in a line. "We are. We'll see you around, Kam."

"Maybe," he said, and his voice began fading away, as of him leaving, "maybe not. Depends how lucky you are, really."

There was a pause of a minute while they waited with bated breath.

"Why were you so sure he was bad news, Hermione?" Sirius asked eventually, keeping his voice low this time.

"His phrasing," she said, putting her Portkey away. Harry and Cho moved off. "It was like someone lying by exact words. And the Sneakoscope, and the coincidence that he was here at all, and" her eyes widened "and he's going to be back with friends, soon, isn't he. We should leave. Now."

Harry bent down to see if he could fix the Sneakoscope, but it was completely dead. Maybe with his wand he could have done something, but for now it was just a paperweight.

"We can't go anywhere yet," Sirius said, "a friend's arriving any minute now. In fact, she's already a bit late. Don't worry; the door's covered in Shield Enchantments and there's an Anti-Apparition ward here. We'll be fine."

Hermione ran her hands through her hair, making it frizz out to double its normal volume. "Well … I suppose, as long as we can head out at a moment's notice."

"There's nothing here we can't afford to leave," Sirius assured her. "Although it would be nice to clean up, and not leave evidence behind. Some of the Lighter elements of the Ministry not with us are worried that we might be making a power play. I'm going to talk to Emily. Don't open the door to anyone until I come back." And he climbed down the hatch.

Harry sank into a couch. "What do you think Kam wanted, then?" he asked Hermione.

She shook her head. "Later. Cho, we can't just leave it at that."

Cho gave her a look of contempt. "Why, because no-one can ever think you, or the perfect_ Harry Potter,_ made a mistake?"

"No," said Hermione, "because I thought the same thing you do now."

Harry gave her a look. "Um, Hermione? You believed him too. And you did from the same time that you knew I did."

"No, not then," said said, shaking her head. "Three years ago, when I heard what Ginny said about the affair with the enchanted diary and the Chamber of Secrets. Yes, she was possessed during the actual attacks, but – what she said about before and after. She said she had memory blanks lasting hours at a time, and after the attacks, she'd come to in empty classrooms and with mud or blood on her hands and no idea how. I thought, how could she _possibly_ have been so thick that, not only did she not make the connection, but she _kep__t__ writing in it?_ How was it not _obviously_ dangerous? How did common sense or, or the precautionary principle not stop her? I was suspicious within ten seconds of hearing about it, let alone how I would have reacted if I'd had _memory blanks_ after using it.

"But that was before I knew firsthand what it was like to actually talk with him. He's …" She shook her head. "A genius with words. I think he might use low-level Legilimency to read your emotions, and know exactly how you'd react before he speaks. He always says exactly the right thing to make you trust him, even when you know you shouldn't. That's probably why he talked to me and Harry separately, so he could focus on each of us individually."

Cho stood with folded arms. "Are you done?" she asked. "Because if you're trying to compare yourselves to a twelve-year-old girl, after you should have learnt from seeing that girl make that exact same mistake, well, I don't accept that."

Hermione sighed. She'd tried. "For what it's worth, we are both so, so sorry. What are you going to do now?"

"Go back to Hogwarts, I suppose," Cho said. "It's not like there's anywhere else for me, now."

Harry winced.

"Thanks for the robe, Hermione," she added, managing to make this into a mortal insult.

"If there's anything we can do to make up for –" Harry tried.

"Can you think of anything," Cho asked, "which _would_ make up for that?"

She walked over to the hatch and made to climb down, but at that moment came another knocking at the door. One, one-two-three. The signal.

Sirius popped out of the hatch a moment later, wand in hand. "Who is it?"

A familiar, thickly accented voice drifted through. "Eet's me. 'Urry up, zere's sometheeng out 'ere."

Sirius nodded, and Hermione, who was closest cautiously walked over and pulled back the deadbolts. She pulled the door open wide enough to admit Fleur Delacour, resplendent in tasteful blue robes. She carried a bound and gagged figure in black robes over her shoulder, bridal-style, whom she dumped on the floor.

"'Arry!" she cried in delight, walking over to kiss his cheeks in greeting.

"Fleur!" he said, his face growing warm. He'd thrown off her Veela charm before, but he'd done a lot of growing since then, and so had she.

There came a _whum_ and a rush of air, and something unseen slammed into the blast door, knocking it into Hermione's body. This stopped the door but sent her flying.

All at once, Sirius transformed into the huge black dog and shouldered the door to shut it, Fleur a moment behind; Hermione bounced into a couch, flipping it over and sprawling to the ground; Harry drew his wand and moved to stand guard over where she fell; and Cho squeaked, slipped, and fell down the ladder.

The thing on the other side of the door shoved again, knocking Sirius off his feet; Fleur staggered but kept her balance, drew her wand, and cast. Silvery hands sprouted out of the wall next to the door and grabbed the frame, blocking it from opening more than a foot wide. Fleur waved her wand again, Transfiguring an empty tin into a golden spear, grabbed it, and thrust it through the opening.

Sirius got back to his feet and rammed the door again; it shut for long enough for Fleur to shove the first deadbolt home. There was a rattle from the thing ramming it again, and another, then silence. They waited on guard, breathing hard, but there was no third attack.

Hermione's right side was one massive bruise, and she'd bashed her ankle against the side of the sofa, but she waved off Harry's concern. Sirius, when he turned back human, had bruised hands, but was otherwise fine. Fleur looked like a fairy princess, her hair still perfect, but she was pale and shocked, and the front half of her spear had melted like a candle in a furnace. Her conjured hands had snapped off at the walls and already reverted to concrete; there were holes where they'd sprouted from. Harry was pretty sure that wasn't supposed to happen; he'd seen Professor McGonagall cast a similar spell once, and it had lasted much longer and left the walls unmarked after.

"What," Hermione said, massaging her jaw and wincing, as Harry helped her to her feet, "was that?"

"I – I couldn't see," Fleur said. "Eet moved fast, and eet's so dark out zere … I just saw that eet's _big._"

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked her. "I'm so sorry, I should have … Also, who's that?" he added, pointing to the limp body Fleur had dropped at the door.

"Death Eater," she said, in the same tone she might have used to describe a puppy with limited house training. "A junior one, I theenk; 'e was very easy to Stun."

"That's brilliant, Fleur," said Harry. "Getting any sort of Death Eater at all is great; that's probably just about the first one caught in ten years."

"Never mind that now," said Hermione, glaring at Harry, "the Ministry'll be here any moment."

"What?" Fleur said, alarmed. "Why? 'Ow do zey know where we are?"

"You used your wand," Harry said. "Hermione and I are underage."

"So?" said Fleur.

"So our Traces are active, aren't they?" Hermione said impatiently.

"But you didn't cast ze spells," Fleur said, puzzled. "You mean to say zat in Britain, ze Ministry detects magic cast _near_ young _sorciers__? Quelle bizarre._ In France, zey put Traces on ze people zemselves. 'Ow do zey monitor magical families? If ze adults use magic, zat would look ze same as if –"

There came a pair of pops from outside the door. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement," came a male voice. "Open the door!"

"So much for safe house," Harry muttered.

"Emily!" Sirius called down the hatch, pitching his voice so it wouldn't be audible from outside. "Take Cho to the warehouse. We'll only be a minute."

"If you don't open right now, we'll have no choice but to blast the door down!" continued the Auror. "Fine. Three, two, one" a second voice joined in "_R__educto!_"

The door shook and dented inward; bits of dust fell from the ceiling.

"You said it was Shielded!" Harry hissed.

"It was," Sirius replied. "Damn it, something's gone wrong. We'd better hurry."

"Is zere anything 'ere we need to take?" Fleur asked Sirius.

"Help me Vanish these empty cans," said Sirius. "Harry, Hermione, you have those glitterbags. Stuff everything that isn't rubbish and fits into that."

"This might take awhile," said the Auror.

"I think this is nukular steel," said the second Auror. "Toughened against blasts. Let's see how it deals with an Acid Hex. _Acreo._"

"Hurry," Sirius said again, as he and Fleur set about Vanishing the rubbish and couches, Hermione gathered up the blankets and soup cans, and Harry stuffed the unconscious Death Eater into his purse. Harry lit his wand to replace the lamps when he snuffed them and put them away. "I didn't ward against that at all, it'll dissolve the door in a minute –"

"**Oh yeah!**" Kam roared. One of the Aurors yelped; there was a crack and a crunch, and his cry was cut off. "See, this is exactly what I mean by life and death situations. Why, if I hadn't waited around …"

"What did you just do?" Harry called. He got the feeling that even talking to Kam was dangerous, but he couldn't help himself.

"Hm? Oh, I just put them to sleep," Kam said. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. So you see, we're really on the same side here, neither of us wants the Ministry to arrest you, do we?"

Sirius ignored this. "Emily, can you take Cho?"

"Sure," Emily called back. "See you in a minute."

Hermione pulled out her Portkey; she, Harry, Fleur and Sirius gathered around it.

"Okay," she said. "From three. Three … two … one –"

They were standing in a square, all with one hand on the old boot; Harry happened to be facing toward the door. Sirius was opposite him. As Hermione spoke, by the dim light of his wand, he saw the door disintegrate, and a massive something shoot forward –

"_Trigger boot Portkey,_" said Hermione, and there was the nauseous jerk and they spun around and around, but something was wrong; there was a feeling like having fishing line wrapped around Harry's toes, with the other end tied to something loose but heavy, except all over his body; pressures great enough to cut off circulation unless he yielded to them. His ears rang. Then there was a crash; the Portkey landed hard enough to throw Harry off, face-first into asphalt.

He lay there for moments or minutes, dazed from the impact and tinnitus, until a hand shook his shoulder and rolled him over. His glasses had fallen off, but he could still make out that it was Fleur. Her hair had been knocked loose and hung about her head in wavy tangles that for a moment reminded him of Hermione's, even though hers never shone like starlight.

"! , ?" she asked.

"Unh?" Harry asked.

", ?" she repeated.

"Can't hear, um," Harry mumbled.

", . ; ?" Fleur called over her shoulder. A moment later, Hermione crawled over, looking terrible. Her hair was a nest, and she was bleeding from a gash on her forehead. She took her medical bag from her pouch; from that she pulled a jar of salve, scooped a dab onto her finger, and wiped it in Harry's ears. His hearing gradually came back, although it was muted, as though underwater.

", … you hear me now?" Hermione asked. She wiped her sleeve against her forehead.

Harry nodded, then regretted it as his world _twisted_ again. "Yeah … ow. What happened?"

"I don't know," she said. She sat down on the asphalt, unable to hold herself up. "Something tried to block the Portkey. It might be some kind of new ward. Here are your glasses … oh dear."

Harry put them on; both frames had spiderweb fractures that actually made it harder to see than with no glasses at all, so he took the glasses off and hung them from his collar.

"I can still see outlines, general shapes and stuff," said Harry, "I won't bump into anything. If we don't get into any more fights, I'll be fine until we can fix them."

Fleur offered Harry a hand. He took it and stood with difficulty, swaying. "Come along, 'Arry," she said, "we should get inside."

"What about Sirius?" came Emily's voice.

"He's too heavy to carry without magic," said Hermione, "we can come back for him in a minute."

They were in some sort of Muggle industrial area. He could hear a diesel engine running nearby and see ambient light. They were surrounded by a maze of shipping containers. Emily led the way; she and Cho had got out a moment before the others and were fine. Harry leant against Fleur and Hermione against Cho. Thankfully, they only had to walk a few dozen yards before coming to an open gate to a warehouse. Inside was what might have been a break room, with electric lights, four patched couches, a few old magazines, and a tray of what Harry thought might have been stale biscuits. The women laid Harry and Hermione on couches and went back.

"Where did you get that medical bag?" he asked.

"It's an old book bag," she answered. "I used magic to stitch the Red Pentagram on. I read that apprentice Healers are expected to carry a medical kit with them everywhere, but Madam Pomfrey said I was being silly and wouldn't help me buy one so I thought I'd make my own, you know, just as a temporary thing until I could buy a proper one. It doesn't have everything standard kits are supposed to have, only what I could order or brew myself. I wouldn't have had the ear cream if I hadn't needed it myself that one time."

Harry privately thought Madam Pomfrey had a point. Hermione hadn't even got her OWLs back yet, and he was pretty sure they didn't even use an apprenticeship system any more; he thought there was an academy. He smiled at the thought.

"I'm glad you did," he said, and Hermione smiled back.

Emily, Cho and Fleur walked back in, carrying Sirius between them, and placed him face-down on another couch. Harry sat up to go over and see his injuries, but the world twisted again and he had to flop back down.

"Good grief," Cho was saying. Harry could make out red splotches on her hands. "What happened?"

"We don't know," Hermione repeated. "I rubbed dittany in, he should stop bleeding in a moment, but I don't think he should move more than absolutely necessary until he gets proper medical care. I can't do much without using my wand."

"Does anyone else think it looks sort of like a Splinching?" said Emily.

Cho shook her head emphatically. "My mother once Splinched herself. It was nothing like this."

Harry crawled over. "If we assume that Kam was the thing that attacked right after Fleur arrived," he said, "then I think it was him. He broke through the door, just before we left, ran forward, and slashed him. He might have had a weapon, a knife or something."

Hermione stood up to look at Sirius' wounds again. "I think it looks a little bit like that one time in third year, when Buckbeak tore Malfoy's arm open. Kam obviously isn't a Hippogriff, though. He can talk."

"Maybe he's a Sphinx?" Emily suggested. "Or maybe he's a human _with_ a pet Sphinx?"

"I don't think so," said Hermione. "There were no riddles or anything. Unless that song was a riddle in disguise? Ugh." She rubbed her forehead and staggered back to her couch.

Harry pulled his dead Sneakoscope from his purse. "A Sphinx wouldn't have done this," he said.

"Only magic would break a Sneakoscope without touching it," said Cho. "So … a half-giant with a pair of swords?"

"We can worry about 'im later," Fleur declared. Her hair was perfectly straight again. "What shall we do with Monsieur Black?"

"We take him to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts," said Harry. "What else?"

"You could just take him to St Mungo's," said Cho. "They're better equipped there. This … looks nasty. Pomfrey might not have everything she needs on hand."

"She can fix cuts and broken bones in seconds," Harry said.

"I don't think this counts as a cut," she replied.

"The current Minister is Dolores Umbridge," said Hermione. "According to Voldemort" Cho and Emily flinched "the sacrificers have probably been courting her; if they realise Sirius is on our side and that we're planning on fortifying Hogwarts, they'll arrest him at the hospital. Or worse. And if the sacrificers haven't won her over, she's probably sided with Voldemort; she's one of the worst bigots without a Dark Mark."

"And even aside from all that, the Death Eaters probably have assassins all over the hospital," said Emily. "Hermione, do you know when he'll wake up?"

She shook her head. "Not without casting any spells. He's passed out from shock; he might wake up normally in I guess six to eight hours, or he might be in a coma, and those can last for years if untreated."

"Well," said Harry, "why don't we wait until morning? If he wakes up by himself, he can decide; otherwise, we'll send him back with everyone but you and me, and we'll Apparate back in the evening."

Fleur smiled knowingly at this, and her eyes flicked to Hermione, who blushed and looked away. "Per'aps I should come too. You might need a third person to … keep watch."

"That's fine by me," said Emily. She yawned. "I'm turning in. There's a bathroom around here somewhere …" She wandered off into the warehouse.

"I don't suppose you remembered a toothbrush for me?" Cho asked.

"Er," said Hermione.

"Right," said Cho. She looked down at her bloody hands. "I'd still better wash up." And she followed after Emily.

"I'll fix zese and stand guard," said Fleur, taking Harry's glasses. She shot another smirk at Hermione and walked out.

Harry sat down beside Hermione and took her hand in his. "This didn't really go like we hoped, did it."

She sighed and squeezed his hand. "No, not really. Cho's safe, at least, and we're all still alive. Are you all right? Emotionally? I know you were never very close to the Dursleys, but to hear that …"

"I'll be fine," he said.

"Harry, you always bottle your emotions up, and then they erupt at the worst possible –"

"No, it's the truth," he said. "Intellectually, I know it's sad that they're dead, but I can't feel a thing about it."

"Oh, Harry," she said sadly, and squeezed his hand again. He glanced down at her, taking the tone in her voice as condemnation of him, but she didn't pull away. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I remember that time during the Triwizard Tournament, when you rescued Gabrielle Delacour from the Black Lake. All you knew of her at the time was that she was pretty and had an obnoxious sister, but you still fought a tribe of armed merfolk to rescue her. You're more empathic than you give yourself credit for. I'm just wondering how cruel someone has to be to burn that sympathy out of someone like you."

Harry leant back against her and rested his free hand on her thigh. Her body was like a small heater, moulded into the small of his back. He shut his eyes and felt some of the aches he'd accumulated over the past few hours fade away.

"Will you two get a room?" Emily asked, laughing. She had returned, Cho a pace behind. Harry stood up, and the aches came flooding back.

"Do you have any blankets?" Cho asked. "I know it's a warm night, but I can never sleep without them."

Harry pulled the ones he'd taken from the bomb shelter from his purse, whacked them to dislodge some dust, and threw them to Cho and Emily and draped one over Hermione.

Cho caught hers, opened her mouth, shut it, looked away, and said, "Thanks."

Harry, meanwhile, had touched on something warm in his purse, and pulled out the Death Eater Fleur had caught. He dropped him on the floor.

"You know, I forgot about this guy," he remarked. The Death Eater was still unconscious; Fleur must have hit him with something more thorough than the vanilla Stunning Charm. He looked about thirty, was of medium height and build, and had dark brown hair. No-one Harry recognised without his glasses.

"He's not going anywhere," said Emily. "Even if he wakes up. You two, go and brush your teeth … and nothing else."


	3. Enter, the DMLE

With only four couches and six people, they settled on Hermione doubling with Emily, while Harry, Cho, and Sirius had one each, and Fleur stood sentry outside. No-one was quite happy with this. Cho wanted to go to Hogwarts immediately, but wasn't confident she could Apparate there in one piece by herself, and no-one else would go with her yet because they wouldn't be able to get back without a Portkey. Hermione complained that Emily was too warm, and Emily replied that Hermione fidgeted too much. Harry kept thinking the unconscious Death Eater was moving, then checked, and saw he was still exactly where he had been last. None of them was at all comfortable on the too-short couches and without pyjamas, and all were worried about the future.

None of them got much sleep.

Eventually the sky lightened to a grey pre-dawn light. They gave up trying to rest when a loud engine kicked into life somewhere nearby. Fleur sauntered in a minute later.

"Good morning_,_" she trilled, looking fresher than the rest of them put together. Hermione scrunched up her face and buried her face in the sofa. "Are we all ready to begin ze day?"

Cho muttered something which Harry didn't quite catch but which sounded like something Dean Thomas had once received a detention for saying. "Morning, Fleur," he said loudly, sitting up and throwing off his blanket. "What did you _do_ to him?" he asked, indicating the Death Eater, who was still out. "I would have thought a Stunner would have worn off by now, it's been hours."

"I used a _dormiance,_" Fleur said. "I'm not sure what the Eenglish is. A kind of _envo__û__tante_, uh, a …" She spread and lowered her hands, then brought them together and slightly upward. "A spell sort of between an _enchantmente_, a charm and a curse. Eugh …"

"Oh, a bewitching?" Hermione asked, suddenly brightening. Emily threw off their blanket, climbed over Hermione, and stretched. "I've read about those, but they're not taught at Hogwarts. Could I ask you about them later? I have so many questions …"

"Could we please wait until breakfast?" Cho said, rubbing her temple. "What is for breakfast, anyway?"

"Stale biscuits," said Emily, reaching over to the tray. "Ooh, look, it's the kind with the filling that they pretend is cream but which is obviously just spun sugar. Merlin's teeth, but I've missed the Muggle world." She took one and bit into it with perverse delight.

"I have some tins in here," said Harry. "Not great, but better than – oh, wait, there's no tin opener."

"We should buy breakfast at a pub," said Emily. "We can have a full traditional English Muggle breakfast. Fried bacon and ham, baked beans, omelette in batter …"

Fleur gave her a look of pure disgust, and Cho clutched her stomach, nauseated. "Could we maybe just go to Hogwarts?" Cho asked. "I could use a shower, and a nap in an actual bed."

"Killjoy," said Emily. "I can't Side-Along two people at once, though; could you lend a hand?" she added to Hermione and Fleur.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm only licenced to go a few miles at a time, and no Side-Along."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "You care about a Ministry licence when said Ministry is headed by a sacrificer?"

"I meant that I've never tried before," said Hermione, "and can you imagine how inconvenient it would be if I Splinched myself? We're a little past a two-month suspension by this point."

"You're a little past a two-month suspension already," said Emily. "You and Harry are wanted for complicity in the murder of Albus Dumbledore."

"All the more reason to keep myself in one piece," Hermione replied. "Besides, we don't want to tire ourselves out hopping back and forth across the country, not when we've got things planned for today."

"We have Portkeys," Harry interrupted, fishing an oversized mustard-yellow sock from his purse and holding it out. "Hermione and I had one made each, they take you just outside Hogwarts. They've tightened up the wards so there's no way to teleport directly in, but we'll be fine, they have sentries out."

"Shall we split up, zen?" suggested Fleur. "Eet will be faster for us to stay and find breakfast 'ere in London, and we won't need to Apparate back."

"Makes sense," said Emily. She took the sock and pulled Sirius' hand onto it; Cho followed suit.

"Cho," said Harry, "look, I just want to say that I'm sorry."

Cho paid very close attention to the sock as she put a hand on it; Emily took Sirius' hand.

"_Trigger sock Portkey_," said Hermione, and Cho, Emily and Sirius vanished. "I'm not," she added in an undertone.

"Well!" said Fleur, with a wide smile mostly aimed at Harry. He got the vague impression that she didn't much like other girls. "Where shall we have breakfast, zen? You must know a good restaurant in London."

"Harry's from Surrey, actually," said Hermione, "but I know a few places. Let me see –"

"When I was 'ere last," Fleur reminisced, "during a break from the Triwizard, we ate at Diagon Alley. Nuzzing like back 'ome, but we did find one restaurant which was much nicer than 'Ogwarts."

"Hogwarts food is pretty basic, yeah," said Harry.

Hermione shot him a look of disgust. "If you want to eat there by yourself, be my guest, but Harry and I are wanted by the Ministry," she said, meaning it for Fleur but without looking at her. "We can't just stroll into Diagon Alley and order a croissant. _I_ know some places which would be more _practical_, assuming of course they meet your _lofty_ standards."

"Of course," said Fleur, with a trilling laugh. "Why don't you take us to your café?"

Hermione led them out of the warehouse, took a minute to get her bearings, and finally found a little shop selling fruit salad smoothies.

"I wouldn't want anything too heavy for you so early in the day," she simpered to Fleur, as they received their orders. Harry had never eaten very much fruit, but only because Hogwarts didn't have much except endless apples and pumpkins, and because the Dursleys never bought any outside of the time Dudley had been put on a diet; he found he quite liked the little box of sliced fruit.

"'Ow considerate," Fleur said warmly. "I remember I tried eating more fruit when I was feefteen too, but you mustn't overdo it, 'Ermion, or you'll never develop." She rolled her shoulders voluptuously while so saying.

"So this is why people turn to Dark magic," Hermione muttered, only slightly below Fleur's threshold of hearing, slicing into her melon with her plastic spoon rather more forcefully than necessary.

"Fleur," Harry said, before Hermione did anything irreversible, "I didn't know you were in England."

"_Ouille,_" said Fleur. "Ze War of Purity spread across Europe; it's my duty to stop it at its source. Besides, zere's seemply no work to be found in France right now."

"Really? I would have thought a Triwizard Champion could have found a job doing _something__,_" Hermione said. "Even if you did have problems during the Tournament." She put a gentle stress on the word 'problems'.

"Monsieur Black and my father co-operated in trying to find more fighters for Britain," Fleur continued, seemingly not hearing Hermione. "'E wasn't very 'appy when I told 'im I wanted to come too, but part of being a woman is knowing when to obey one's parents and when not to."

Harry nodded. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"I 'eard about your adventures with Monsieur de Mort," said Fleur.

"It's Voldemort," Hermione corrected. "Just one name."

"Oh?" said Fleur. "I always thought 'Flight' was an odd name." She kept her eyes on Harry.

"Yeah," he said. "Well … I'm not proud of it."

Fleur nodded sympathetically. "Ze 'istories agree 'e was vairy, eugh, vairy persuasive. _La plus belle des ruses du diable,_ as my fahzer always says."

"I'm glad you trust me," said Harry.

"Gabrielle would never forgive me if I didn't," Fleur said fondly. "Do you know, she is quite obsessed with you? She threw a tantrum when my father forbade 'er from coming with me; she thought it would be romantic to come to her true love across ze Eenglish Channel and through a war."

"I'm a little old for her, aren't I?" Harry said.

Fleur just laughed at this.

"Maybe we should talk about what we're going to do today," Hermione said. "We're going to try talking to people in Diagon Alley and hopefully persuade some to come with us to Hogwarts, then we're visiting the Weasleys, then trying to persuade the people of Hogsmeade, and then we're falling back to Hogwarts."

"And your Ministry, which is owned by allies of Voldemort," Fleur said, not pronouncing the trailing t, "will attempt to stop you."

"Of Voldemort, or the sacrificers," said Harry. "Speaking of which, one of them owns a shop in Diagon Alley. Remember Ollivander, from the Tournament?"

"Ze wandmaker?" Fleur said. "_Ouille._ 'E is an enemy? Zat's unfortunate. What will you do for replacement wands?"

Harry hadn't thought about this.

"'Ave you considered robbing 'im?" Fleur suggested, in the tone of one browsing for curtains.

"I … can see why that might seem like a good idea, in general terms," Harry said, "but Ollivander's too strong. If we had information and a plan, we might have a chance, but if we blunder into his security … no, it's not worth the risk. And if we see him today, drop everything and run for it. It'll take more than the three of us to match him in a duel."

Fleur raised her eyebrows.

"What shall we do if 'e or ze gendarmes raise Anti-Disapparition wards?" she asked.

"Diagon Alley is a special case," said Hermione. "Anti-Disapparition doesn't work properly there. Either you only cast it on a very small area, in which case it'll be easy for us to run out of range, or it just fizzles, either instantly or within a few minutes. There's a theory that it's because there's so much conflicting magic in the air."

"Huh?" said Harry. "Hogwarts has just as much ambient magic, and its Apparition wards work just fine."

"I never said it was a good theory," said Hermione. "Really, it's just one of those things nobody knows."

"We might as well just Apparate there, then," said Harry. "There might be security in the Leaky Cauldron."

Hermione shook her head. "It's a misdemeanour to Apparate there, Harry; remember the exam? In case you land on somebody. It'll give the wrong impression."

"Conspiracy to murder is one thing, but poor manners are unforgivable?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," said Hermione.

They found a blind alley and Apprated to another near Diagon Alley, then made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. The door hadn't even swung shut behind them when the roomful of late breakfasters went totally silent, staring at them.

Harry hadn't really expected any different. He and Hermione were Britain's youngest outlaws, and Fleur could turn heads at fifty paces.

One young tough stood up and moved to block their way to the back exit.

"There's a bounty on your head, Potter," he said.

"There is?" said Harry. He knew there was a warrant for his arrest, but not a bounty.

"In this morning's _Prophet,_" said he man, pointing to one he'd left on the counter. Harry couldn't make it out at this angle, other than the words _POTTER – __AN_. The man pulled his wand; Harry and Hermione had theirs out in the next instant.

There was a _BANG_ from the counter. The barkeeper, Tom, had his wand out too.

"No fighting in my pub," he said. "You can take it outside, or you can finish your drink."

Another man got up and stood beside the first, and they nodded their heads toward the exit.

Fleur walked forward, took the men's hands and, with a pulse of her Veela allure, led them out the back door. "One moment, if you please, 'Arry, 'Ermion," she called over her shoulders, as the men followed her without protest.

"Tom?" Harry asked. He knew the man; he'd rented a room from him three years previously. "What's going on?"

"Sorry, Harry," Tom said, not meeting his gaze. "I don't want any trouble."

Hermione motioned Harry over. Harry sighed and followed her outside, where Fleur was standing around, looking like a bored tourist.

"Nice," Harry said, stepping over the two unconscious bodies.

"It was notheeng," said Fleur.

"Harry, look at this," said Hermione. She showed him the paper she'd swiped.

_POTTER – AN AUROR-KILLER?_

"That's new," he said.

"I think it's talking about those two who tried to arrest us last night," she said, having skimmed the first three paragraphs already. "Looks like we were right not to let Kam in."

"Per'aps we should call zis off?" Fleur suggested. "Ze gendarmes wouldn't like zis."

"All the more reason to go ahead," said Hermione. She took out her wand and began tapping out the sequence on the brick wall to open the doorway to Diagon Alley proper.

"_Nequ'exire._"

They turned. Coming out of the Leaky Cauldron, still brushing traces of dust from their robes, were five Aurors. Their head was a tough-looking old witch, who'd conjured the ward.

"Chief Bones of the DMLE," she said. "Harry Potter, Hermione Dolohov. I have warrants for your arrests for conspiracy to murder, sedition, underage magic, and four counts of suspected murder and desecration. Put your hands up. Ma'am, stand aside," she added to Fleur.

"I," said Harry. More Aurors were arriving. "Wait, _four_ counts? And desecration?"

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione said, moving her lips as little as possible.

"Aurors Hawlish and Specks Apparated to the location of your Traces firing several hours ago," said Bones. "When they didn't report in, Hit Wizards Stone and Selwyn Apparated in as backup. When _they_ didn't report back, I led a platoon in myself."

By now, she had ten witches and wizards behind her. Harry remembered McGonagall's careers advice from last year: each of them had at least a DADA NEWT, plus three further years of training. Far too many to have any hope of fighting.

"We take protecting our own _very_ seriously in the DMLE," she said. "We take respect for the dead even more so. Killing us is one thing; that's no more than we'd expect from You-Know-Whose flunkies, and we'd offer the same conditions to you we would to them. But doing what you did to the bodies? Were you trying to send us some kind of sick message?"

"That wasn't us," Harry said, already knowing no-one would believe him, and wondering exactly what Kam had done to them. "There was someone skulking around outside who attacked him. His name was Kam. Spelt with a K."

"Yeah?" said Bones. "Name doesn't ring a bell. You have a description of him?"

"Er," said Harry. "We didn't see him. He had a deep voice, and we think he was really big. Or that he had a pet Sphinx."

"We theenk 'e deedn't, zough," Fleur supplied.

Hermione smacked her palm to her forehead.

"There's no chance whatsoever that you believe us, is there," she said.

"No, none," said Bones. "And even if there were, I'm an Auror, not a juror. You can try to sell your side of the story when your trials come to the Wizengamot."

Hermione's hand slipped around to the back of her neck, rubbing in agitation. "Which is unlikely, because there are three separate factions who want to kill at least one of us," she said.

"We're not Death Eaters," said Bones. "We protect our prisoners properly."

"I wish I could believe you," said Hermione.

She'd put her hand there to surreptitiously unfasten the knot holding her magical pouch. She pulled it free and threw it at Bones. Bones wasn't an Auror for nothing.

"_Reducto!_" she cried.

The hex hit the pouch in midair and demolished it; there was a _SPTLANG_ as eighty hyper-compressed soup cans shot in all directions like a demented jack-in-the-box, smashing open and spraying cold soup into the air. At the same moment, other Aurors were conjuring overlapping shields or firing hexes that ricocheted off the cloud of metal and soup; Hermione stepped back and tapped out the sequence on the brick wall behind them; Fleur waved her wand at the ground between them and the Aurors, and it rippled as mounds rose or sank, rendering it treacherous; and Harry cast an indiscriminate Banishing charm into the soup maelstrom.

"RUN!" he shouted, as the wall behind them opened up.

"_Nequ'exire!_" Bones cast again, spreading the Jinx further.

Harry grabbed at Hermione's wrist and sprinted left, down an alley and into Nocturne Alley, where he instinctively felt the Aurors would be at a disadvantage.

There was less traffic than Diagon Alley generally had, and it was all a bit sketchier; people with hoods drawn despite it being a summer morning, a woman with deep green skin, and one shop was overflowing with glitter which had formed up like a snowdrift. Harry left sparkling footprints in its wake. The Aurors turned into the Alley, thirty yards behind.

"Harry – we should be far enough to –"

"_Artirex!_"

They popped back into existence just outside the Burrow.

"Oh, wonderful, Fleur's got herself lost," Hermione said. "I say we wait for at least half an hour before going looking for her; she's a Champion, she can take care of herself, and it'll just create more problems if we get oh my goodness."

Harry was examining up his right hand, which had been hit by Bones' parting shot. It pulsed blood from both sides, through a quarter-inch cylindrical hole through the base of his thumb, which he couldn't feel or move. As with quite a few of his injuries, the adrenaline rush kept him from feeling it for a few moments, before agony radiated out from around the wound; his fingers twitched, and he dropped his wand.

"I'm putting on a brave face," he said, "but this is actually _excruciatingly painful,_ can you fix this?"

"I – my medical bag just got blown up, with the soup," she said weakly.

She grabbed his wand, took his other hand, and pulled him onto the Burrow's lawn. The front door opened before they got there, revealing Molly Weasley; her face lit up when she saw them, and fell when she saw Harry's hand.

"Harry! What happened? Come inside, I'll fix you up – come on –"

"No magic," said Harry.

"What? No, dear, you can't just put a bandage on something like that," said Mrs Weasley, sitting Harry down at the dining table, their largest mostly-sterile surface. She shut the curtains.

"Our Traces," said Hermione. "Do you have dittany?"

"We can't afford it," Mrs Weasley said.

"Ooh, look," said Harry. The curse had grazed the second joint of his middle finger, too, carving a furrow between the last two knuckles. Plenty of blood was bubbling out of that, too.

"Do you have any other styptics?" Hermione pressed. "We just need to stop the bleeding."

"Er, we have –" Mrs Weasley turned to a cupboard and began pulling out herbs. "Bluepetal sap, knursus, powdered hens' teeth –"

Ginny walked in. "Hi, Harry, Hermione," she said. "What's going oh Merlin's balls."

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley snapped, not stopping pulling out mostly useless herbs. "Boil some water."

Hermione reached over to Harry's purse and felt around in it. She frowned and stuck her head in while rummaging around.

"What on earth happened?" Ginny asked, putting a kettle on.

"Aurors," said Harry. The room was starting to spin around him. He didn't think he'd lost that much blood, although it was beginning to drip off the table.

"I thought they were supposed to use spells like Stunners," Ginny said.

"They were angry," said Harry. "Four dead Aurors and a dessication."

"You _killed four Aurors?_" Mrs Weasley asked.

"No," Hermione said, emerging from Harry's purse, holding his magic knife, "but we're going to have a really hard time proving it. Also it was desec_ration_, not dessication. Please don't tell me Llywarch rubbed off on you."

She cut off the hem of her shirt and divided it into smaller strips. Ginny brought the kettle over and a bowl; Mrs Weasley poured it into a bowl with some herbs, Hermione soaked the cloth in the water, and cleaned the wound, although it was already a very clean puncture. She wrung out the cloth and set about tying it around Harry's hand.

"This should slow any after-effects, reduce the bleeding, and stop it from getting infected," said Mrs Weasley. "But I don't know the curse; you need to get that looked at by a proper Healer."

"We will," Hermione promised, "we're going straight to Madam Pomfrey, just as soon as he's stable."

Blood soaked through the first bandage. Hermione tied another on top.

"Wait, aren't we going to Hogsmeade?" Harry wondered.

"You're in shock, Harry," said Hermione. "And no. You're bleeding and I doubt you can hold a wand. Someone else can take care of that."

"I can hold a wand," said Harry. Hermione had left his on the table; he picked it up left-handed, then transferred it to his right, gripping it with his fingers. "See?"

"Harry," Hermione said patiently, pausing her ministrations only long enough to pluck the wand from his fingers and deposit it back on the table. "There is a _hole_ in your _thumb_. This isn't a body part you never use, like your amygdala. This is something _important__._ I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey."

"But –"

"_Don't_ try to argue with me," she said, pulling the next bandage on extra-tight. "As if that weren't enough, we can't let you risk another run-in with the DMLE until we've calmed them down enough that they only try to arrest you."

"I'm going to find extra linen for bandages," said Mrs Weasley, bustling off. "Ginny, clean up the blood. Harry, stay right there."

"I've been telling Mum some of what happened over the last week," Ginny said, fetching a bucket and sponge. "She already knows most of it, from the Order, and the entire family minus Percy is heading to Hogwarts. But it sounds like I'm behind already. Four Aurors? Was this You-Know-Who?"

"Let me just say this," said Hermione, "if someone with a deep voice, possibly calling himself Kam, asks to be let in, tell him no."

_Ding-dong._

They all froze.

"No," said Hermione, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. "It _has_ to be a coincidence. He couldn't have known we'd be here, and the odds that he'd arrive right after we did just by chance are minuscule. If he could find us any time, he would have caught us on the docks or at breakfast."

None of them moved.

"Unless," Ginny murmured back, "this place is being watched. Which, given we're the Weasleys, would be smart. Or if there was a traitor. Or if either of you were hit by some sort of tracking spell. Or –"

_Ding-dong._

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley called. "Get the door!"

Ginny glanced at Hermione. Whoever it was must have heard that. Both girls drew theirs wands, and Ginny apprehensively walked over to the door. It wasn't the kind with a peephole.

There came three raps at the door.

"Who is it?" she called, wand raised.

"Eet's me. Are 'Arry or 'Ermion 'ere?"

"Why couldn't it have been Kam?" Hermione muttered, but she relaxed and put her wand away. Aloud, she said, "Let her in, Ginny."

Fleur strolled in as though she owned the place, her appearance still perfect. "Good morning," she said to Ginny. "Lovely place, vairy, eugh, vairy rustic … 'Arry! What 'appened?"

"That Bones woman doesn't like me," he said.

"Ah," said Fleur. "I do not like 'er."

"Where were you?" Harry asked her.

"I split off to try to lure ze Aurors away," she said. "I theenk most followed you, but two came after me, and it took me a minute to get rid of zem. I don't know Diagon Alley vairy well; I 'ad to be cruder zan usual."

Mrs Weasley came in, holding a blanket and some sheets.

"Oh," she said to Fleur. "Hello."

They'd met slightly over a year before, during Fleur's short-lived romance with Bill. Mrs Weasley apparently found this awkward, but Fleur only showed more of the same geniality she shared with everyone.

"Molly!" she cried. She swooped over and embraced the older woman (Mrs Weasley went rigid); she then took the blanket, draped it over Harry's back, and a sheet, and sat next to Harry, tearing it up. Her fingernails were sharper than Hermione's; in fact they looked a little like claws now.

"It's Mrs Weasley, if you don't mind," the matron grumbled, taking a seat and glaring at Fleur, who apparently didn't notice; Fleur hadn't actually asked permission to destroy the linens, but Mrs Weasley could hardly forbid her with Hermione doing the same thing three feet away and Harry bleeding to death between them.

"Mrs Weasley," Hermione said, "do you know anything about how the Order's doing?"

"There's a hideout nearby; I've been bringing food and hearing the gossip," she said. "They're spreading the news around, don't worry."

"Has anyone been attacked?" Hermione asked. She didn't stop methodically wrapping linen around Harry's thumb; Fleur set to work on his finger. "Is anyone missing?"

"I didn't hear about any attacks," said Mrs Weasley. "As for being missing, we've only been doing this for the past six hours; a few people haven't turned up, but that's only to be expected when you're trying to organise something this large."

Hermione parsed this as 'yes, probably, but don't tell Ginny'. Of course, Ginny wasn't stupid either and would probably pick it up anyway.

"The DMLE was over here last night," Mrs Weasley went on. "They were looking for you; they had a warrant to search this place."

"What? Why?" said Hermione.

"Because this is literally the first place anyone who knew anything about either of you would look," Ginny explained.

"It's a good thing they did, too," said Mrs Weasley, "because they saw you weren't here; they don't have sufficient cause for a warrant now, or even to have us watched."

"If that was after those Aurors were killed, then the ones who searched here must have found Ginny," said Hermione.

"I'm not wanted for anything, though," said Ginny. "We told them I was brought back early after Dumbledore died. And we're leaving as soon as you're ready."

"Maybe," said Hermione, "but aside from me and Harry, they know about at least Malfoy – we broke into his home –"

"I thought you were trying to keep a low profile," said Ginny.

"– and they must surely see the pattern there. The DMLE knows that we're back."

"Don't worry about it," said Mrs Weasley. "You-Know-Whose moles in the Ministry are too disorganised to attack, and the only ones in contact with the sacrificers are in the executive, not enforcement. By the time the reports filter back, we'll be long gone."

"Hmm," Hermione said, unconvinced.

"Trust me, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "Arthur's been complaining about it for twenty years."

Harry leant forward and rested his chin on his hand.

"'Arry, are you …" Fleur began.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"But I'm feeling a bit lightheaded, and kind of sick."

By now, Hermione had wrapped six layers of bandages around Harry's hand, and blood was still seeping through. She looked into his purse again. "I think there was something more to that curse that hit you," she said, "some sort of haemorrhagic effect. If you haven't coagulated yet, you might not without the counter-curse, which we don't know and couldn't do anyway, not until you're safely back at Hogwarts."

"Shall we just go now, zen?" asked Fleur.

Hermione pulled out Harry's cauldron and reagents bag. "Magical travel is risky when one's wounded," she said, "it can make matters worse. We might not have a choice, but I don't want to take that chance, not while we're relatively safe here."

"What are you thinking?" Ginny asked.

"The DMLE probably won't come back here today," said Hermione. "We should be safe until sunset. So Harry might as well stay until then, in case his wound closes by itself. I need to stay to take care of him; I'm going to start brewing Blood-Replenishing Potions. As for the rest of you, you'll be safer at Hogwarts."

"Safer only if you're attacked 'ere," said Fleur. "I'm staying."

"So am I, of course," said Mrs Weasley. "Arthur's at the Ministry right now, but he'll head there at five. I'd better meet him by then, but I can stay for the day. Ginny, on the other hand …"

Ginny thought about this for a moment. As a youngest sibling, life was a perpetual struggle to be taken seriously, so she couldn't just meekly obey her mother without question. On the other hand, she'd actually much rather be at Hogwarts, where her friends would be, and where her mother wouldn't forbid her from the Quidditch pitch until she'd finished washing up for five; and it wasn't like she would be much use here anyway.

"Will you be all right here?" she asked, making sure to direct the question to Fleur, the person present her mother least liked.

"If zere's any trouble, I can 'andle it," Fleur declared.

Ginny moved toward the fireplace and Floo box, but Mrs Weasley spoke up again.

"The Floo connections to Hogwarts are down," she pointed out.

"So I'll go to The Three Broomsticks," Ginny replied. "I've been there enough times, and it's not too much of a walk."

"It is if there are Death Eaters or the sacrificers lurking nearby," Mrs Weasley pointed out. "And Hogsmeade is about the most obvious place for them to watch. Maybe I should go with you …"

"We have a spare Portkey," Hermione said, not pointing out that a matron wasn't her idea of a bodyguard.

Her hand moved to her bare throat.

"We _had_ a spare Portkey," she amended. "Sorry. Forget I said anything."

"Give her the Cloak," Harry mumbled.

Hermione glanced down. It was still tied around her waist from the night before, fully visible now that her shirt was torn; thankfully, she hadn't put it into her pouch, reasoning that it was the sort of item for which ten seconds' rummaging might make all the difference. She untied it and handed it to a wide-eyed Ginny.

"This isn't," Ginny said.

"It is," said Hermione. "It's a family heirloom, so please be careful with it."

"You don't need to tell me to be careful with something that cool," Ginny said, hiding it away under her robes.

"I don't know," said Mrs Weasley, looking almost as nervous at the idea of her baby girl having an Invisibility Cloak as the notion that she might be abducted.

"Don't worry, Mum, I promise I'll take it off as soon as I reach Hogwarts," Ginny lied earnestly. "I won't use it for anything else and I'll give it back right away."

Hermione glanced at Harry, but he smiled and shrugged, so she said nothing either.

"Mum, I've walked to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade half a dozen times," Ginny said, seeing her mother's unconvinced expression. "It's broad daylight, I'll be invisible anyway, and you just said yourself that there hadn't been any disappearances yet."

Mrs Weasley winced at this last.

"Fine," she said. "But go as quick as you can, don't stop for anything, and _be careful._"

"Of course, Mum," said Ginny.

… … …

Hermione set up Harry's potions equipment and set about brewing for him. Mrs Weasley put a slow-cooking stew on and went off to pack up the last of their movable belongings that they hadn't already moved. Fleur went out back, where it was quite secluded, and took a nap.

"Useless bint," Hermione muttered.

"Hmm?" Harry said. His hand was still bleeding, and his nausea was getting worse.

"Nothing," she said. "I was just thinking about Fleur. She's sleeping now."

"Think she's got the right idea," said Harry. "I'm tired, too."

Over the day, Hermione brewed him three Blood-Replenishing Potions; each perked him back up, and he'd slowly deteriorate after. He kept bleeding, and eventually the sun crept toward the west. Mrs Weasley had left an hour before.

"'Ermion," Fleur said at length.

Hermione nodded and gave Harry a final potion. "We're going to have to risk it," she said. "Harry, this is going to hurt. It'll probably open the hole up further." She began tying a fresh bandage tight around his wrist, as a tourniquet. "This is to stop you from fainting from blood loss, but it'll cause necrosis if it's on for more than a few minutes. We'll have to run."

Harry polished off the potion. "Could I fly?" he asked. "Up." His Firebolt flew out of his bag and into his hand.

Hermione considered this. "Not in your condition, but I could Stick you to me and fly for you. I'm not great, but at least there's no chance of me fainting en route."

"Eugh, 'Ermion?" Fleur said. "I am quite a good flier."

Hermione looked from her injured boyfriend to the dazzlingly beautiful woman.

"Alright," she said unhappily.

Harry pulled their last Portkey out of his purse, and they all took a hold.

"Three," said Hermione, "two, one."

"_Trigger hat Portkey,_" Harry said.

There was a feeling of a hook behind Harry's navel, and another in his thumb, and a third in his finger. They weren't all pulling in quite the same direction.

He landed sprawling and couldn't get up, just outside Hogwarts' front gates, which were wide open. Standing between them were a dozen witches and wizards; in his split second's glance, he saw Lupin, Snape, McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody. On Harry's other side was a small army of DMLE, headed by Bones.

"Well, that settles that," Bones said. She raised her wand and fired a jet of red at Hermione.

Fleur snapped out her wand and parried it. Without breaking eye contact with Bones, she tossed the Firebolt to Hermione, who caught it one-handed.

"'Allo again," Fleur said.

"Stand down, girl," said Bones. "Being a foreign national won't stop me from arresting you for obstructing justice."

"Oh, is zat what's 'appening?" Fleur asked. "Per'aps trying to murder my dear friend earlier was zhustice too, mm?"

"Delacour, was it?" Moody called out. "Calm down. We're negotiating."

"What's to negotiate?" Bones asked. "Snape's wanted for questioning, and you're refusing to give him to us. We want Potter and Dolohov, too. Are you going to let us have them?"

"No," said Fleur.

"Shut up, Delacour," said Moody. "And no. You and I both know He's going to go after all three of them, Bones, and that Hogwarts is the only place he can't reach, and even that's iffy."

"We also both know that He's used them before, and he'll do it again, with your protection or without," Bones replied. "You know what they did last time. I can't allow that to happen again."

"You want to stop Him? Clean up your own department first," said Moody. "Three of the people with you have concealed Dark rubbish on them right now."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bones replied. "I'm doing everything I can, without defying the Law."

"The Law is exactly what He's manipulating to get what he wants."

"Where does that leave you?" Bones asked. "What, are you seceding?"

Moody gave a half-shrug. "I'm not telling you to forget about the law or your duty," he said. "I'm telling you to prioritise. We're going to keep Him and His out of here as well as anyone can. We'll protect anyone who wants it. Civilians, who you're stretched too thin to keep safe. Potter, Snape, Granger – they're useful to us, and they're not worth the trouble to you, not when there are real Death Eaters out there right now. Go and catch the ones doing real damage, instead of chasing schoolkids."

Bones gave him a long look.

"The Ministry won't stand for this," she said. "You're standing in direct contravention to the Minister's orders."

"We can work out a compromise," Moody said.

Bones glared at him, but Harry was getting the feeling that was just what veteran Aurors did, and that they deeply respected one another. "What terms are you offering?" she asked.

_[Hello, Harry. Great day to be alive, isn't it?]_

Harry's head snapped forward. It had been a while since he'd last heard Voldemort's voice in his head. Hermione noticed, and stepped forward and to the side, subtly interposing herself between him and the Aurors.

_[Voldemort. What do you want?]_

_[More allies. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to win this war right now, not as things stand.]_

_[And you want me?]_ Harry did his best to transmit a bark of mental laughter. _[Yeah, that's not going to happen.]_

_[Mm, that was more of an aspirational goal. Failing that, I want to make sure you at least leave this connection open. It's important to be able to parley with one's opponents.]_

_[Sod off. We're _enemies,_ not just opponents.]_

_[Are you sure? Because the third item on my list is division of enemy forces.]_

_[Go to hell, Voldemort.]_

And he slammed down his Occlumency shields. He tried to stand, but his body still wouldn't obey. In fact, it was only getting weaker and weaker.

"She isn't going to accept that arrangement for long," Bones was saying to Moody.

"No," he agreed, "but it'll keep her for long enough for us to gain legitimacy. She won't want to admit the real reason; she'll pretend this was all her idea."

"Fine," said Bones. "On your own head, so be it … but if you want –"

A voice cut across hers, high and clear, coming from seemingly all directions at once.

"_McGonagall, you fool, what are you waiting for? Bring Potter and Dolohov to my castle, NOW! Blast those snivelling Aurors back to their worthless Ministry and be done with it!"_

There was an awkward silence as they all digested the implications of Voldemort giving them orders.

"Okay," said Hermione, "I know it _sounds_ bad, but we're really not taking orders from him, he's only pretending," before Bones dropped her with a Stunner.

Fleur responded with a fast-moving turquoise hex, and a moment later a mêlée broke out; shields appeared, and spellfire arced back and forth between the two sides. Lupin and Snape dashed forward to grab Harry and revive Hermione, ducking under the volleys of hexes. The DMLE fighters had the advantage of numbers, and they knocked two, then three and four of the defenders out.

The dying light of the setting sun turned Fleur's hair into purest gold, scattering as though from a prism, sparkling snow white and blood red. Her robes whipped around her legs in a sudden wind, pulled flush against her hips and upper body, revealing the sensual form beneath. A soft glow played over her smooth, milky white skin, like intimate candle lighting, promising eternity. Her noble, angular face glowed in the crepuscular light, her eyes shining behind delicate eyelashes, as she faced off against the brutal oppressors.

The men of the DMLE blinked, dazed, and their shields winked out, leaving only four witches still fighting. At the same time, the wizards of Hogwarts redoubled their efforts, and threw a wave of hexes that punched through the DMLE's scattered defences.

"Take that girl down!" Bones shouted, aiming a Stunner at Fleur, but almost none of her forces could hear her. Fleur parried the shot and replied with her turquoise hex.

"Miss Delacour, fall back!" Snape cried, moving to over her left flank and conjuring a shield. "I'll hold them off!"

"Get away from her!" Lupin shouted at the DMLE, taking out one of the witches, as he stepped forward to cover Fleur's right.

Hermione grabbed Harry's good hand and pulled him along, past the line of defenders and onto Hogwarts grounds, where the defensive enchantments wouldn't stop her from mounting his broom, pulling him on behind her, and flying back to the castle.


	4. Hogwarts Besieged

There was not a cloud in the sky the next morning. Strange birdsong issued from the Forbidden Forest, and a gentle summer breeze blew about Hogwarts, disturbing the drapes in one private room of the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over Harry's hand, which was ensconced in a green rubbery substance. "… cannot _believe_ the DMLE is using that sort of curse, on schoolchildren no less … if I ever lay my hands on that woman …"

"Surely I don't need to stay here if it's just my hand that's damaged, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said.

"Don't try to charm me, Mr Potter," she said absently, "but I never expected you to sit still for longer than half an hour at a stretch, so yes, you may go. That cast should mostly protect your hand while it recovers; I want you to come back here in thirteen days so that I can confirm there's no lasting damage. If you do anything particularly foolish like trying to remove it yourself, I shall give you the Draught of Living Death, see if I don't. That was a very nasty curse; treat it like one."

"I'm not _that _stupid," said Harry, giving his hand an experimental clench. A jolt of pain shot up his arm, and as soon as he let it go, the cast snapped back to its original shape.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a sceptical look. "Go on, then."

"Actually … can I see Sirius now?"

"You may not." Harry blinked. "For one thing, he's still unconscious. That last Portkey reopened his wounds, and they've resisted my attempts to close them."

"They've _resisted_ –?"

"It's peculiar," Madam Pomfrey admitted. "But don't worry yourself; I have it in hand."

"But you just said you couldn't heal him," Harry said. "That sounds pretty worrying."

"I said I _hadn't_ healed him; there's a difference," she corrected. "One tries the simplest remedies first. In any case, he is in a delicate state, and I need to tend to him. Go on; the young lady outside needs you more than he does."

Harry had never won against Madam Pomfrey. He sighed and left. "Morning, H– uh, Cho," he said, surprised.

Her hair was as long as it had been at the Malfoys', although it was properly washed now. She was wearing a threadbare Hogwarts uniform, her eyes downcast. "Hi, Harry," she said. "Can we talk for a bit?"

"Okay," he said, and set off. "Come on; I want to go outside."

She kept pace. "Harry … what happened to your hand?"

He glanced down at the cast. "Madam Bones happened to it," he answered. "It doesn't really hurt any more," he added, not wholly truthfully. "But that's not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"

"No," she said. She breathed in, then let it out like a deflating balloon. "I wanted to apologise for how I treated you earlier. I … had a limited perspective."

"Uh-huh," he said noncommittally. "What changed your mind?"

They passed a gaggle of Ravenclaw fourth-years, who stopped talking and moved to the far side of the corridor to pass. Harry was used to this, it had been happening since the end of term, when he had confessed his complicity in assassinating Dumbledore, but Cho winced and was silent until they rounded a corner.

"Last night. I saw and heard from the castle. With three sentences, You-Know-Who turned the entire DMLE against Hogwarts," she said, clearly picking her words carefully. "It's one thing hearing that he outsmarted a couple of teenagers, but it's something else to actually see him in action. It would be ridiculous to blame you or Hermione … was it Granger or Dolohov?"

"Granger," Harry said crisply.

"Granger, after that," Cho continued, not missing a beat. "But even before then, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. You were in a difficult situation, and you made the best decision you could have with the available information. I was out of sorts, given where I'd just been, but that's no excuse, so I'm _sorry._"

Harry caught her looking at him sideways, and she looked away. He guessed that her clothes were spares which either McGonagall or Flitwick had dug out for her. She was probably still using Narcissa's wand. Most tellingly, the hordes of friends that had surrounded her two years before were gone.

In Harry's experience, even when someone was proven wrong, it usually took them at least a week to swallow their pride and apologise. Most of the time, no-one apologised for anything at all, no matter how unarguably they were to blame, unless they needed something urgently. Cho obviously was an extrovert who couldn't deal with being by herself for any length of time, and if her old friends were still on good terms with her, she would have been able to borrow some better clothes.

On the other hand, that just meant that Cho was lonely and vulnerable, on top of having been kidnapped twice over the past months and her two best friends being murdered by Voldemort's minions. He remembered the time Ron had refused to talk to him at the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament, because he'd been jealous and felt overshadowed; and how Harry had welcomed him back as soon as he had asked, because Hagrid had once told him off for throwing a friend away over something trivial. That had been such a long time ago.

"It's alright, Cho," he said.

"Really? I don't –"

"It's alright," he said again. "We'll just have to work harder the next time."

"You're going to fight him again?" Cho asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, eventually, I have to, don't I?" said Harry. "Because of the prophecy. We're just hoping he's going to deal with the sacrificers first."

Cho shivered. "I don't think I could do that," she said. "Even five minutes with Bellatrix Lestrange … no, I couldn't face _him_. But then, you're you."

Harry wasn't sure quite how to respond to that. "Do you know what happened last night?" he asked instead. "I sort of blacked out just after Fleur and Bones started duelling."

"I was in Ravenclaw Tower, and it was dusk so it was hard to make everything out," said Cho, "but Mrs Weasley said you'd arrive then, so some teachers and a few other adults went out to rendezvous with you. We heard what You-Know-Who said, there was spellfire, and our side managed to get everyone back inside and shut the gates. They're enchanted, obviously, and the DMLE haven't got through.

"It looks like they have charmbreakers sniffing around our wards, but they haven't made any headway. I think we're probably safe from them, for a while at least; Hogwarts' wards draw their strength from its residents, and there are more of us than there are of them."

Harry frowned. That logic only held if the average person in Hogwarts was as magically potent as the average enforcer. Or unless the sacrificers showed up, or Voldemort decided to get creative again.

"How many people are there around here, anyway?" he asked.

"Quite a few," she said. "Most of the students, except children of Death Eaters, came back, and lots of their parents are here. The house-elves have been busy clearing out rooms for everyone, and there are volunteer groups working on expanding the greenhouses to grow enough food, since we'll hardly be able to buy it from Hogsmeade. I think Hermione's there. I'd help but" she took out Narcissa's wand and gave it a desultory swish "this is being temperamental. I've read that you're supposed to practise with a new wand for two weeks before using it for anything important."

"Didn't stop you at the Malfoys'," Harry observed.

Cho flushed. "Well, I'd been a prisoner there for three months; I had frustration to work out."

They walked through the Great Hall, where several familes were sitting around the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. They pointedly looked away from Harry.

"If they think I'm a nutter, why are they even here?" Harry asked Cho angrily, his voice low enough he could pretend he was trying not to be overheard. "It's not like I have solid proof of the sacrificers. I could barely convince the faculty of it a week ago."

"Who said anything about sacrificers?" Cho asked. "They're here to hide from You-Know-Who. I would have thought they would have hidden here during the last war, too, but apparently the Ministry kept on promising that he'd be defeated in another three months so it wasn't worth taking refuge."

"Hmm," Harry said. "Let me mull that over." _[Voldemort, are you there?]_

_[Yes. You want to become opponents again?]_

_[Not really. I want to know why you bothered with last night.]_

_[Think about things from Madam Bones' perspective. She thinks I'm at Hogwarts, and that I've turned the Order. She won't believe you if you tell her otherwise, because you're a confessed collaborator; and she won't believe anyone else, because you could have put them under Imperius.__]_

_[And if we all come out with our hands up and our wands down and invite her to inspect the castle?]_

_[Then she'll have to arrest you all, which would give my assassins a golden opportunity to wipe out the entire Order at once. __Obviously I'd throw you in a dungeon somewhere, so the prophecy would still protect me. And __Bella told me she wanted to play with the Granger girl. I'm not quite sure what that means specifically, __in this context__, but I see no reason to deny her.]_

Harry suspected Voldemort had made up the latter part, but he wasn't about to call a bluff.

_[So you'll invent reasons why you can't do that,]_ Voldemort continued,_ [so that the refugees won't pester you, and meanwhile, both the Order and DMLE are out of my way, leaving me clear to hunt down the sacrificers. Once that's done, I suppose I might as well conquer the Ministry. I mean, why not, right?]_

Harry had in fact guessed most of this, but Voldemort loved talking about how clever he was. _[It's also to your benefit that refugees come here, though, isn't it?]_

_[Do tell.]_

_[The more people we have here, the more effort the Ministry has to waste keeping par with us, and the less they can spare fighting you. The sacrificers won't have as many targets. And your goons won't be able to waste as much time pointlessly attacking civilians.]_

_[Mm, that last especially. You would not _believe_ how annoyed I was that Malfoy hit the Dursleys.]_

_[Malfoy?]_

_[You didn't think that was me, did you? I'm insulted.]_

_[You arranged to have my best friend murdered in cold blood.]_

_[Oh I'm capable of it, certainly, and I'll admit that it was my plan, hatched fifteen months ago in fact, but consider this. Your mother's love charm protected you from death from me and my 'goons', correct? Except it wouldn't stop me, since I was revived with your blood, so it only stops the goons from killing you. However, the prophecy _also_ stops my goons from killing you.]_

_[…]_

_[I had the plan shelved indefinitely once we recovered the prophecy, because it meant that there was zero benefit to killing the Dursleys, and there was the significant cost that it would warn you that I was less benign than I was pretending. A cost which that imbecile neglected to consider. If I had been alive at the time, I would have abducted Hermione's family instead. What was her sister's name … Therese, I think? She'd have had real value as a hostage. But no, Malfoy jumped off half-cocked on a useless Muggle hunt, and my inner circle followed after like a clutch of retarded ducklings, attacking possibly the only target in the world which you don't care about but which would galvanise the important targets into going into hiding, _and_ losing me a valuable follower in the process. I think it's past time I made an example of him.]_

_[…]_

_[I digress. You make a decent point about refugees. What did you have in mind?]_

_[First, don't attack here again. If you do and it looks like we're not safe, people will leave here.]_

_[I wasn't going to. It would be too much work, and it's not like you're a threat.]_

_[Second,]_ Harry went on, ignoring Voldemort's jibe,_ [people can't just walk in through the front gates any more, not with that DMLE blockade out there. I want you to leave the secret passages out of the castle that the DMLE doesn't know about clear.]_

_[Letting you smuggle supplies and Order members in and out, too.]_

_[Meaning we'll hold out and tie up the DMLE for longer.]_

_[Mm. I shall consider it. Anything else?]_

_[Attack Ollivander's shop. People don't believe me when I talk about the sacrificers; they'll need to actually see one of them in action. If you lure him out into a big, flashy battle, like with Dumbledore, where he single-handedly holds the line against your entire inner circle, using magic like no-one's ever seen before, preferably with lots of reporters watching …]_

_[… then people might cotton on and flock to Hogwarts. Interesting idea. It wouldn't even need to be a serious battle, just a dramatic one. Of course, it would be poor propaganda if we deliberately lost a fight like that, and it would take rather more planning to take him on directly … however, it does give me an idea or two. Very well. What's your angle in all of this? You're hoping to recruit some of the refugees, and to undermine the ritual?]_

_[More that I just don't want innocent people dying.]_

_[How charmingly innocent you are, but I doubt the Order will overlook the possibility. I can't help but notice that I'd keep their powers out of the sacrificers' hands just as effectively by the time-honoured expedient of genocide.]_

Harry blinked. How on Earth had he ever believed Voldemort was a good guy, when he could so casually propose wiping out ninety percent of magical Britain? _[You said you wanted to take over after? I assume you don't want to rule over a graveyard.]_

_[I concede it wouldn't be ideal, but adaptability is a virtue.]_

_[Look. The people already here are much likelier to help fight you if the alternative is being slaughtered en masse. So unless you feel like offering your own sanctuary …]_

_[Jointly run by myself and Bella? No, I can tell a terrible idea when I hear it. I won't interfere with anyone seeking asylum at Hogwarts. You can tell your superiors, if you think they'll listen. Before you go, though, would you mind doing me a favour in return?]_

_[What is it?]_

_[One of my junior Death Eaters recently went missing near someone who I believe has joined the Order. Tall chap, light brown hair, name's Pollux Bendager?]_

That would be the one Fleur had caught, whom Harry had again forgotten. _[I'm not helping him escape. You're not doing me any favours; you're considering actions which benefit yourself. Besides, I can tell you're already plotting how best to double-cross me.]_

_[Actually, I just wanted to find out whether your side was the one who found him. Thanks. You haven't executed him, have you? He's not immortal, and I do hate having to tell my followers that their sons have got themselves killed.]_

_[Who do you think we are? Death Eaters?]_

_[Touché.]_

"Are you talking to him?" Cho asked.

Without him really noticing, they'd exited the castle. A hundred or so people were milling around the greenhouses; there had previously been seven, but now there were skeletons of three more, these all being much larger than the others. Flitwick seemed to be in charge, but not in control. Terry Boot was alternately pointing at the Lake and conjuring images of an irrigation ditch, while Arthur Weasley kept interrupting, clearly suggesting improvements which ran contrary to the laws of physics. A red-faced Daphne Greengrass was ranting at Patricia Stonewall, the new Herbology teacher, who steadfastly ignored her to carry a pot of sprouts from Greenhouse Four.

He could hear people inside the Quidditch pitch; presently, Malfoy zoomed upward in pursuit of an unseen Snitch, a third-year Hufflepuff boy trailing in his slipstream; a well-timed Bludger forced Malfoy to break off his run. McGonagall was outside the pitch, arguing with Fleur about something, judging by how emphatically Fleur was gesticulating. Lupin was with them, apparently trying to reconcile them, but he clearly couldn't get a word in edgewise. He was standing closer to Fleur than McGonagall.

Further away, just beyond the gates, four figures in brown coats were waving wands around, presumably probing the wards that stopped people from simply climbing over the perimeter fence. Inside the fence was the blonde girl with the burn scars and eyepatch whose name Harry kept forgetting. She was apparently chatting with the DMLE, although they didn't seem to be paying her much attention. McGonagall noticed and headed over, frowning; Fleur followed, still talking nonstop, and Lupin threw up his hands in frustration and turned and went into the pitch.

"I just finished," said Harry. "I think he's probably going to spend slightly more effort attacking people other than us for a while."

"That's not as reassuring as you think it is," said Cho.

"By the way, do you know what happened to that Death Eater Fleur caught?"

"McGonagall recognised him, he was a student who graduated a few years ago. Pollux something. A Slytherin, of course."

"Bendager," Harry supplied. "Is that an important family?"

Cho shrugged. "It doesn't need to be. Most of You-Know-Whose forces weren't last time, you know? You can't take over the world with just the aristocracy. I heard he had lots of low-ranking Death Eaters from poor families, who basically figured it was join him or push a mop. I think Crabbe and Dolohov" she paused for a moment "were like that. Dolohov was much better at it, obviously."

Hermione walked out of the fledgling Greenhouse Eight, dirt all over her hands, and spotted Harry; her eyes lit up and she came over.

"Harry," she said. "Are you feeling better?" She made to hug him, but saw the dirt on her hands and checked herself.

"I'm fine; this is nothing," he said, waving his cast around.

"Coming from you, that can mean anything between actually being fine to having fifteen minutes to live," Hermione said, concerned.

"Madam Pomfrey signed off on it," Cho said.

Hermione's gaze flicked between the two of them, and she sized up the spacing: Harry was closer to Cho, having walked side-by-side with her.

"I see," she said. "So you two have buried the hatchet, then? That's good to hear."

"Yeah, we're okay," said Harry.

"Sorry about snapping at you, too," Cho said to Hermione. "It was cruel of me. I left your robes in Ravenclaw Tower; I get them back to you later today."

"Thank you," Hermione said, a little less brightly than she usually was when other people swallowed their pride. "Sorry I didn't visit you, Harry; Madam Pomfrey told me to go away awhile earlier, and then Terry happened by and told me they needed help …"

"Don't worry about it; this was only a four or so," Harry said easily.

"A four?" Cho repeated.

"A one is a punch in the face, a ten is almost certain death, like that time in second year, when that damn Basilisk bit me," Harry explained.

Cho opened her mouth to ask whether he was serious, then decided she didn't want to know and shut it again.

"So, what do we do now?" said Harry, looking to the gates, where McGonagall was apparently berating the blonde girl for fraternising with the enemy. "We're not just going to sit on our hands for the next … it could be years before the other factions are weakened enough for us to beat them. Voldemort" Cho flinched "lasted for almost fifteen years without even weakening, last time."

"Technically, this is summer holiday," said Cho. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind a holiday."

"Do you want to help with the greenhouses?" Hermione asked. "They want everyone to pitch in."

"This new wand's playing up," Cho said.

"That doesn't matter; they need people to work with their hands, too," Hermione pressed, indicating how dirty hers were. "Didn't anyone say that? Come on; working together is actually really fun. I wish we did more of it, in class."

She turned to take them to the greenhouses, and Cho shot Harry a look of raised eyebrows. He shrugged back.

As they got nearer, Mr Weasley noticed them. He broke off his conversation and came over to meet them.

"Hello, Hermione, Harry," he said. "And, um …?"

"Cho," she supplied.

"Arthur Weasley," he said. "Pleased to meet you." She assented. "Harry, how are you feeling? I didn't think Madam Pomfrey usually gave people casts."

"Er," said Harry. He was acutely aware that he hadn't spoken to Mr Weasley or indeed any of his family since Ron had died, which one could very easily blame Harry for, since he was the one who'd let Ron come along, and it was also his fault that Ron had gone on the expedition when he'd had the lethal weapon installed. Yesterday with Mrs Weasley didn't count; he'd barely been awake.

"She says it'll be fine," said Hermione. "I didn't realise you'd be coming here, Mr Weasley."

"I'm a Weasley," he said, distracted. "We're on the who's who list of blood traitors; it'd be a matter of days at most before a Death Eater got me. Harry, could I have a word?"

"Er," Harry said again. He shot Hermione a pleading look.

She mouthed 'You can't avoid him forever' back.

"We'll go on ahead," said Cho. "Harry, don't take too long; I promised my friend I'd introduce you to them."

"Er," Harry said again, as his friends deserted him and Mr Weasley took him back to the castle. They stopped outside, by a stretch of wall with no windows or doors nearby. "I'm sorry!"

Mr Weasley looked at him curiously. "You are? What for?"

Last year, Snape had snapped at Dean, who blanched and confessed to copying much of the week's scroll from Roger Malone. Snape explained that he was actually criticising Dean's flame, which was on too high, before assigning Dean a detention and deducting twenty points from each of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

"For bleeding all over the Burrow yesterday," Harry improvised.

Mr Weasley blinked in surprise. "You do realise that You-Know-Who is almost certain to burn it to the ground while we're away, don't you?" he asked. "We always knew we'd be the first pureblood family attacked. No, actually I wanted to ask you about something. Your class shares Potions with the Slytherins, don't you?"

"Er," Harry said again, trying to see where this was going. "I did, yeah. I don't know if Houses are kept separate in NEWTs or if I'll even be allowed to keep going – Snape doesn't let you unless you get an Outstanding OWL, and we haven't got our scores back. I'm not sure we will at all."

Mr Weasley waved this aside. "So you know Draco Malfoy fairly well?" he continued.

That explained it. "I wouldn't call us friends, exactly … or at all …"

"You know that he's been going out with my Ginny for some time now."

Harry normally wasn't the sort to pass blame, but he wasn't stupid. "She made me promise not to tell anyone," he said.

Mr Weasley nodded, unhappy but accepting. "I suspected as much. Do you think he's a good match for her?"

"I wouldn't foist him on the Giant Squid," Harry replied candidly. "Unless you mean, is she better for him than another girl would be?"

"Molly's delighted," Mr Weasley said.

"She was?" said Harry. "I had the impression she didn't like him. I thought I saw her glaring at him during the funeral?"

"That was before she knew who he was," Mr Weasley said, exhaustion apparent under his eyes. "Since she found out, she's decided Ginny's going to win him over to the Light, and they'll happily marry and have eight children and live in a manor house. She brought four of those Knut dreadful romance novels here. You have to help me!"

"Um. What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked. "She's the year below me; I'm not really in her core circle of friends. And I don't get the feeling she's the sort of person who'd let anyone tell her who she couldn't date."

"Don't you think we could threaten Malfoy?" Mr Weasley asked. "You're a classmate; he'll expect you to pay him more attention than I can."

"We've been threatening each other since the first train ride here," said Harry. "He's not afraid of me. Besides, he'd mention it to Ginny, and then she'd keep seeing him out of contrariness, _and_ she'd ignore any other advice I tried to give her."

"Hermione's smart, and Ginny respects that. Maybe …?"

"They're not exactly bosom friends," Harry said. "They're not in the middle of a fight any more, but they just don't have very much in common."

"What do you think we should do, then?" Mr Weasley demanded.

"Mr Weasley, I was worried when I first heard about it too," said Harry. "I do care about Ginny, you know, but you can't just _make_ her break up with him. My plan was just to let it run its course. She's a smart girl; she'll realise they have no future and leave him by herself."

"But what if Malfoy hurts her?"

"Then you'll have to race half of Gryffindor to be the one to feed him to the Giant Squid," said Harry. "Look, she's not stupid. She won't let him do anything she –"

"Oi! Harry!" Cho shouted from the greenhouses. "Stop chitchatting and give us a hand!"

"Sorry; better not keep her waiting," Harry said regretfully. "She has a _huge_ temper."

"Fair enough," said Mr Weasley, and they began walking toward the greenhouses. "Will you at least try to intimidate Malfoy, though?"

"It's the least I can do," said Harry.

Terry and a gaggle of friends, mostly girls, had taken the opportunity to get started on their ditch, and were variously trying to Vanish or levitate away clumps of earth. Harry couldn't tell why they were bothering, really; it wasn't like there weren't functioning pumps.

Closer to, he could hear what Daphne was saying. "… and even _aside_ from all that, this is _completely_ the wrong climate for keratic plants. They don't thrive anywhere in Scotland."

"That's why we're putting them inside a greenhouse, Greengrass," Neville said over his shoulder.

"Don't act like you know anything about agriculture, Longbottom," she snapped.

Mr Weasley wandered over to the ditch to participate. The new greenhouses were just posts demarcating where the walls and roof would be. A knot of Slytherins and one Hufflepuff had a cauldron boiling under Professor Sinistra's supervision. One scooped up some of the contents in a ladle and let it trickle out between two posts; the liquid hardened in midair into the same green glass as that of the other greenhouse walls. Harry made his way inside, to where he could see Hermione and Cho taking keratobulbs out of a long pot and transplanting them into a fresh bed of soil; as soon as he crossed the threshold, the temperature and humidity jumped, suggesting some sort of insulation magic was in place until they finished the walls.

"Thank you so much," he said to Cho. "Where's your friend?"

"You looked like you needed rescuing," she explained.

"You're a good person," Harry replied, and got down to help as best he could one-handed. He pulled out his wand and began casting the handful of charms he'd learnt in Herbology over the years: ones to aerate soil, keep the environment stable, and kill parasites.

"What did he want, anyway?" Cho asked.

"For me to break Ginny and Malfoy up," Harry said. "I told him I'd think about it. I don't think I've ever seen it not go badly when a third party gets involved in a relationship."

"I saw Malfoy in the stadium just now," said Cho.

"Trust him to be slacking off when there's work to do," Hermione said. "He did it nonstop with Prefect duties; I don't know why Dumbledore even gave him the badge in the first place."

"Actually, I was more thinking about how his father's a Death Eater," said Cho. "Do you think he could be a spy? Or a saboteur?"

"Yes, probably," said Hermione. "On the other hand, it's just a bit too obvious; everyone and his brother are going to be watching him. I'd bet he's just a decoy spy, and Voldemort" Cho flinched "has another one here somewhere."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Cho asked.

"Experience," said Hermione.

"Also, Tonks isn't accounted for," said Harry. "She could be … well, not anyone, but anyone you don't know."

"That's … disquieting," said Cho.

"It's not quite as bad as it sounds," Hermione said. "I mean, there's no guarantee that she's here at all; she could be spying on the Ministry, or doing something against the sacrificers."

"This is actually kind of scaring me," said Cho. "Could we please talk about something else?"

There was a pause, in which the only sounds were of them scraping soil and the chatter of the other workers; Daphne's higher-pitched diatribe carried over it, and Neville's laconic responses were lost.

"What's she saying, exactly?" Harry asked. "I mean, farming is the sort of thing her family is good at."

"She wants us to grow herbs, rare flowers, and other cash crops," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Says we'll need the money, and we could just buy food."

"Won't that be, I don't know, difficult?" Harry asked. "I mean, there are Aurors outside; and I don't fancy lugging enough food for thousands of people through the secret passages. Every day."

"I don't think she's fully internalised the concept," Cho said.

"Once you're done with this patch, move on to the next," Hermione said to Harry of his wandwork, indicating the other beds of soil around them.

"Thanks," he said. "Why is she even here? I got the impression that her family would rather hire tutors."

"Maybe they're hoping she can be damage control," said Hermione. "You know, try to put a human face on the Greengrasses, after you told everyone about how they helped the Marionette Man; try to make them out to be good people."

From outside, they could hear her say, _"If any of you had any financial sense at all –"_

Padma shot back, _"Yes, why don't you tell us about that famous Greengrass financial sense,"_ and this bought a moment's quiet.

"Sounds like she's doing a bang-up job of it," Harry observed.

"I'd think she's here for the same reason most of the old pureblood families come to Hogwarts at all," said Cho. "My friend Melissa Fawley – as in the House of Fawley, you know, one of the really old ones – said it was more about trying to make alliances through marriage than it was about classwork."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "I thought they had, I don't know, Yuletide balls, and those awful tea parties with great-aunts who always pinch your cheek, and so on, for that," she said.

"The Ravenclaw perspective would be that it's easy enough to _sound_ intelligent," said Cho, "you know, by reading a few newspapers and talking about current affairs, but it's hard to be sure that the boy to whom you're promising your daughter is _actually_ intelligent, just from a dinner party. When you have a school with impartial teachers and things like OWL and NEWT exams, you know whether you're getting someone smart enough to manage the family inheritance. And you get a better idea of whether they can play well with others; can they talk with Muggle-borns without making an ass of themself and such."

Harry considered this. Possibly the Malfoys should have kept Draco home. On the other hand, he was doing well enough for himself. "And I suppose for the not-quite-so-old families, like the Goyles, it's a chance to try to get a leg up."

"That sounds absolutely medieval," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "Do they actually still think that way?"

Cho shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't spoken with her in a while, but I know she never dated. Maybe you should try to fix Ginny up with a different pureblood boy?"

"Please do," said Ginny, behind them.

"Oh!" Cho exclaimed, turning bright red. "I, um."

Harry moved to do introductions, before realising that both girls had played Seeker: of course they already knew each other.

"No, really," said Ginny. "Anyone has to be better than _Malfoy_. He thinks he's so impressive because he disobeyed his father to come back here."

"Did he," Hermione said, clearly recalculating how trustworthy Malfoy was, and clearly still getting a negative number.

Ginny nodded. "You'd think he'd wrestled a dragon, when we're only in here because it's _safer_ than being out there. I swear, he thinks he's everything. I'm not talking to him. But, um, actually, Harry? I sort of have something I need to tell you."

"This isn't anything to do with your father, is it?" Harry asked.

Ginny blinked. "No. He talked to you? What did he want?"

"He was asking about the rules of golf," Harry said. _Why can't I ever lie this smoothly when it's anything important?_

"Is that a Muggle game?"

"An _incredibly_ boring one," said Harry. He'd sneaked out of his cupboard once when he was young and watched a few minutes of it over Uncle Vernon's shoulder on the television; once. "I think he'll stick to Quidditch."

Ginny discarded this. "Actually, it was about that thing you loaned me yesterday."

"You mean the Invisibility Cloak?"

Ginny nodded. "No offence," she added to Cho.

"None taken," said Cho. "I wouldn't have told me about that either."

"Moody has it," Ginny said. "Apparently that eye of his can see through it. He caught me last night and told me to hand it over. I told him no, and he jinxed me and took it."

"What! Why?"

Ginny shrugged helplessly. "I don't know; he didn't say much, except that if you want it back, to ask him yourself."

"Of course I want it back; it's an Invisibility Cloak," Harry said, getting up.

"Um, Harry?" said Hermione. "He'll still be there later, and we've only just started here."

Harry paused, then crouched back down.


	5. On Probation

Harry glanced down at his watch. "It's time," he said, pushing his empty plate forward. He and Hermione slipped out of the benches and stood.

"They have to let you off," said Ginny. "If they don't, tell them they have to give whatever you get to me, too, because I did exactly the same thing in first year."

"Should we come with you?" Cho asked.

"Thanks, guys," said Harry, and they left the Great Hall.

Cho and Ginny had taken an instantaneous liking to one another, their conversation flashing between Quidditch, boys, classes, and fashion, at a dizzying speed. Harry and Hermione were more reserved by nature and could only watch, bemused, as the two girls dominated the conversation. Cho apparently hadn't even noticed that she was sitting at the Gryffindor table, or that there was the customary eight-foot gap around them, even as the tables were crowded with all the refugees.

"You're not missing anything in Muggles," Cho said to Ginny, switching back to a conversation thread from two minutes and three topic segues ago. "I showed the textbook and some of my assignments to my mother, who's a Muggle, you know, and she absolutely laughed her head off. I'm so glad I got out of it; Flitty let me off because I made the team."

"If it's so stupid, why do so many Ravenclaws take it?"

"Well, you know how Flitty makes us take three electives, unless we make up for it with extracurriculars?"

"I'm so glad I'm a Gryffindor."

"You should be. Anyway, we usually take Arithmancy and Runes, since those get extra credit because they're harder, and the third has to be Muggles, Div or Creatures, right? Well, I'm a city girl; I'm not really interested in any animals bigger than a cat, and my friend's big brother told her Divination was a waste of – um, no offence."

"No, he was right," said Ginny, "it's useless too."

At that moment, they rounded a corner and ran straight into Malfoy, who had obviously been looking for them.

"And speaking of useless," Ginny added in an undertone.

"Potter," Malfoy growled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't know what it is and I don't _care._ I have somewhere to be."

He moved forward, and Malfoy sidestepped to be directly in his path.

"You have something of mine."

"Try the girls' showers, and _not_ while they're in use," Harry said. "Honestly, do I _look_ like I stole your hair gel?"

Malfoy's eyes raked Harry's ever-messy hair. "Not remotely. And I'm talking about my mother's wand, idiot."

"Technically, that's something of your mother's, not yours, Malfoy," said Harry. "Tell you what, we'll give it back just as soon as you can persuade us it won't go straight back to helping your dad."

"Oh, Malfoy?" Cho said, surprised.

"That's me."

"I flew against your big sister two and a half years ago," said Cho. "You can really see the family resemblance." She chuckled. "She's kind of scrawny for someone named for dragons, right?"

Harry and Ginny fell against the walls, laughing; Hermione kept her balance but began sniggering.

"It's not funny," Malfoy snapped.

"I don't get it," said Cho; Harry and Ginny only laughed harder.

"_Draco_ Malfoy here doesn't have a big sister," Hermione said.

Cho's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, I am _so_ sorry. I mean, rare names are unisex by default, and your eyelashes are pretty long for a boy's and your lips are really full, too, and that hairstyle –"

Malfoy fingered his wand, decided that four on one wasn't his idea of a good time, and instead turned and stormed off. Harry made sure to keep laughing until his footsteps had echoed away.

"You didn't actually mistake him for a girl, did you," he said.

"No," said Cho. "But last I checked, he was a racist, sexist tosspot, and it doesn't look like he's improved since."

"He hasn't," said Ginny.

"Bother; we're late," said Harry, glancing at his watch.

"By what, thirty seconds?" said Hermione.

"Try telling _them_ that," said Harry. "Come on, we'd better run. See you!"

The conference room was on the fifth floor, and had occasionally been used the year before for DADA practical lessons when it was raining. It was huge, much larger than was in fact necessary for the meeting. At present, it contained a long table, around which were seated Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Trelawney, and Burbage; three wizards and one witch Harry didn't know; a girl Harry vaguely recognised as the senior Ravenclaw prefect; Fleur; and Mr Weasley. All had quills and blank parchments set before them; the prefect was twirling her quill around her hand. Two large red objects Harry didn't recognise sat on the table, beside the most ostentatious hat he had ever seen; it was huge and mauve, and had a broad brim and two peacock feathers poking out of the band.

"You're late," one of the unknown wizards said.

Harry shot Hermione a 'you see?' look, and said, "We're sorry, sir."

There were two empty chairs, but they made no move toward them; they intuitively grasped that they weren't allowed to do anything except apologise until given permission.

"Go on, then," said the wizard. "Put on your mendicant wigs."

He pointed to the red objects. Harry's mouth slowly dropped. They were styled something like Muggle judges' wigs, with long curls rolling down either side, but with two mismatched braids down the backs. They were eye-hurtingly bright scarlet.

"Are – are you –" Harry began, but Hermione elbowed him in the side. He followed her lead as she walked forward and took one, but stopped when she actually put hers on. "Er. I'm not familiar with this custom."

"Students usually never meet the Board in an official meeting," Mr Weasley explained. "When they do, as more than observers, they're required to wear the mendicant's wig."

"Er," Harry said again. He was _sure _this had to be a joke, but Mr Weasley, and indeed everyone else but Fleur had perfectly straight faces. Fleur's was creased in a puzzled frown; she clearly had no idea why either.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who'd found a red bit of ribbon to fasten under her chin. She mouthed 'it's traditional' to him.

He gave a tiny shrug and shake of his head, and put his wig on. It was surprisingly heavy, and he immediately felt like an idiot. Snape began visibly but silently laughing at him.

"Thank you," said Mr Weasley. He took the ridiculous hat from the table and solemnly placed it on his head. Harry and Fleur stared. "Now, may I declare this meeting in session." He shot them an apologetic look. "The first item on the agenda is the actions of Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger, who are accused of collaboration with You-Know-Who; and of conspiracy to murder Albus Dumbledore. The first order of business is to list all those present."

"We all know who's here," Flitwick observed.

"It's procedural," said Mr Weasley, who, as a public servant, was used to it. "Arthur Weasley, strategic leader of the Order of the Phoenix, presiding."

This was news to Harry. He hadn't heard Mr Weasley was second-in-command of the Order; in fact, he hadn't heard that there even was a second-in-command. He must have only had the position for a few days at most.

"Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts. Until Sirius Black's exoneration last year, Hogwarts had right of _in loco parentis_ over Mr Potter, and as Mr Black is currently injured and incapable of attending, I am here in his stead, with the school's Heads of Houses."

"Professor Sybil Trelawney, Head of Mr Potter's Gryffindor House, Professor of Divination and licensed Seer. I have foreseen this."

The thought 'I bet she didn't foresee these wigs' flitted across Harry's mind, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight.

McGonagall twitched. Harry had the distinct impression that she didn't actually want Trelawney there, but had been politicked into it.

"Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin and Potions Master."

Snape kept his voice level for just a moment, then resumed his silent laughter. Harry noticed he had bandages all up his left arm.

"Filius Flitwick, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, Charms Professor and Head of Ravenclaw."

He didn't look very interested in the proceedings. Possibly he'd let himself be dragged along because it would look odd if Snape were there but he weren't.

"Charity Burbage, Head of Hufflepuff and Muggle Studies Professor."

She definitely didn't care. Harry could have sworn he caught an eye roll, and he couldn't blame her. He wasn't from her House, didn't take her class, and had in fact never spoken with her.

"Jareth Lalonde, of the Hogwarts Board of Governors." Lalonde was tall and almost albino-pale; his voice was very deep and had an odd reverberation.

"Esmerelda Vane née Shafiq, of the Board." She was a sharp contrast, short and with dark skin, hair and eyes, although they both looked to be in their early forties.

Harry's wig was imbalanced, being pulled backward by the lopsided braids; he adjusted it.

"Roger Eastwick, of the Board." He was very old, very fat, and looked like he was having trouble staying awake.

"Brenton Fawley, Treasurer of the Board of Governors." Fawley looked about seventy, but he sat straight and had a stare like a hawk. He was the one who had called them out for being late.

"Fleur Delacour, member of zhe Order."

McGonagall twitched again. Harry could just imagine the argument they must have had over whether she'd be allowed in, but he couldn't imagine how Fleur could have won it; he thought she had about as much reason to be there as Professor Burbage.

"Elfriede Eichelberger," said the prefect, with a perfect British accent. "I'm just taking minutes."

"Very good," said Mr Weasley. "Oh. Mr Potter and Miss Granger, you may be seated."

Harry and Hermione took the two empty seats. The heavy braids flopped against his back with his motion.

"So, to begin," said Mr Weasley, but he got no further: the door swung open, revealing Mad-Eye Moody. He stood there for a moment, before thunking in, shutting the door behind himself, and standing off to one side (so that if anything blew the door in, it wouldn't hit him).

"Sorry I'm late," he said.

"You're also uninvited," said Vane, wrinkling her nose.

"That's a shame," Moody said indifferently. "What have you said so far?"

Fawley held out a hand with his first two fingers extended toward Mr Weasley, who took this as a cue to take off the hat and hand it over. Fawley put it on; Harry unconsciously adjusted his wig again. "Mr Moody, this is a meeting of the Board of Governors and major stakeholders; you don't have the right to intrude. Please leave at once."

"This is a matter of security," said Moody. "What have you said." It wasn't a question.

"We've only just begun," Mr Weasley said. "Nothing but introductions yet."

"Good," said Moody. "Don't. Potter. You said you had a psychic connection with Him, that you can share thoughts with him?"

"Yes," Harry said carefully.

"That link's still active, isn't it," said Moody. There was a susurration from the adults at the table.

"How do you know?" asked Vane, glancing from Moody to Harry.

"The fight last night," said Moody. "Just before then, I was talking, and I noticed him focussing on nothing, the way you do when you're trying to hear something quiet."

"Is this true?" Fawley asked.

"Er, yes," said Harry. "What? You never asked; and what does it matter? I'm hardly going to keep spying for him _after I told you_ I'd been doing that."

Moody pulled out his wand and Sumoned Harry, who banged his knee against his chair mid-flight.

"Come on," said Moody, pulling the door open.

"Wait, what?" said Harry. "Are you seriously telling me I can't sit in at my own disciplinary hearing?"

"Security," said Moody. "Granger, it's up to you." He dragged Harry out and slammed the door shut.

Outside, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were walking hand in hand. They stopped to stare at Harry's wig; he tore it off and threw it at a wall.

"It's not what it looks like!" he said.

"Go on, scram," said Moody.

The girls giggled and hurried off. Harry turned to glare at Moody.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Do you seriously think I'm going to tell Voldemort useful information about a Board meeting?"

"Hmm," said Moody. "What did you tell him before he got the DMLE to attack us?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

"Uh-huh. What did he say, then?"

"He told me he was back," said Harry. "He said he wanted more allies, and asked me to help him. And _of course_ I said no."

"So you _did_ tell him something," said Moody.

"…"

Moody's mouth twitched in what Harry realised was the nearest approximation to a sympathetic smile he could manage with his scars and cynicism. "Look, Potter. I don't hate you, but you're in far over your head. He's spent the past sixty years learning how to manipulate people. He got you to tell him something, without realising it was important, without even realising you were telling him anything at all. If you hadn't, he would have had to keep his options open; he couldn't have acted so decisively."

"If I'd refused to speak with him, that would have told him the same thing."

"Exactly," said Moody. "The fact that you have a channel of information open to him at all is information by itself, never mind whatever he can manoeuvre you into telling him or what he can guess from your wording."

"But I can try to do the same thing to him," said Harry. "Last time, I got him to admit he lost a Death Eater when they killed the Dursleys."

"Yes, but Potter, he's _better_ at this than you. For whatever useful fact you get out of him, he'll worm three out of you. And that's assuming that he doesn't lie to you, that he doesn't actually want us to know it, _and_ that the Order even believes anything you say."

Harry ground his teeth for a moment, before remembering one time in the lead-up to the Second Task when Hermione had yelled at him for doing it. "You know," he said, "two years ago, Peter Pettigrew told me that he'd had no choice but to betray my parents to Voldemort. That Voldemort would have killed him if he hadn't. It took me a while to realise he was saying this in the context of a charm which made it _completely impossible for Voldemort to find someone_. Why didn't Pettigrew just ask to be let under the charm himself? Problem solved, and he doesn't have to get his best friend killed or side with someone who made him chop off his own hand!

"But this is exactly why, isn't it. Voldemort got some piddling bit of blackmail on him first, and Pettigrew knew that the rest of you would treat him like a traitor either way. No wonder he was winning last time."

"I'm not calling you a traitor, Potter," said Moody.

"You just threw me out of my own hearing for fear that I'd tell Voldemort – what? The Governors who are here, which he probably already knows anyway because they're the ones who aren't outside?"

"He doesn't know that," Moody pointed out. "They could have fled the country, gone underground, been killed by looters … and the fact that this wasn't instantly obvious to you is what I'm worried about."

Harry huffed. "So I suppose this means I'm not getting my Cloak back."

Moody tried to smile again. "I can think of several things you might use it for. Most of them are against rules I don't care about, but some are dangerous for us, mostly eavesdropping. You're the biggest single security risk in the castle right now; I can't allow that."

"I don't suppose the fact that it's mine matters at all?"

"Not remotely," Moody agreed. "Speaking of things of yours, Sirius mentioned an enchanted map of Hogwarts?"

Harry bristled. "Anything else? My broom? Maybe my pants?"

"Arthur specifically forbade those," Moody said, making a face. "Fine. It's your call, Potter, but that thing isn't fooled by Polyjuice or other transformations, is it? Such as, say, a Metamorphmagus?"

Harry hesitated, then pulled out the Map, set it on the floor, and drew his wand left-handed.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

A Stinging Hex hit his hand.

"Ow!"

"What if I were an impostor now?" Moody asked. "Have you learnt _nothing?_"

"Then I'd see on the Map, wouldn't I?" Harry asked, furiously rubbing his stricken hand and picking up his dropped wand.

"And if I were to Stun you and steal it first?"

"If you were an impostor, you would have done that five minutes ago rather than chat."

"Unless I wanted you to get it out for me so I wouldn't need to spend five minutes rummaging around in that ghastly bag next to someone I'd obviously attacked. Be a bit obvious then, wouldn't it? And that just means you should have been more careful then, too."

Harry glared. "Look, this is us here. We're both who we say we are." His heart skipped a bit when he saw Tonks walking around the hospital wing. Then he realised it was Andromeda Tonks. No other Tonks in the castle. "And why should I be giving this to you, anyway? I can look at it as well as you can."

"Yes," said Moody, "but you're one person; you can't watch it all the time. And if you do spot anyone who shouldn't be here, it'll take you at least five minutes to persuade anyone to help you arrest them."

Harry glared.

"But no, it's fine, if you care more about being able to break curfew than catching Tonks if she ever shows up again –"

Harry thrust the Map into his hands.

"Thanks, Potter," said Moody. "I really don't have a personal problem with you. If you need help with something which isn't a security risk, ask me. I owe you a favour or two by now."

"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically.

Moody turned to leave. "By the way, Potter, maybe you shouldn't say His name so much."

"Dumbledore said fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself."

"That was Dumbledore. And maybe you should be afraid of some things. But what I was actually thinking is that we've occasionally run into enchantments that are set to only go off when someone says his name. Booby traps, spying wards. His followers all call him the Dark Lord, so they never set them off, see? That's why I've started calling him Him; he could easily make traps that trigger in response to the names most people use." He limped away.

Harry sighed and slumped against the wall beside the stupid wig.

_[Is this a bad time?]_

_[Go away, Voldemort.]_

_[Ah. I take it your hearing isn't going so well, then?]_

Harry considered simply throwing up his Occlumency barriers. On the one hand, talking with Voldemort wouldn't earn him any points with the Order, and he might let something more slip. On the other, apparently Voldemort already knew more of what was happening in Hogwarts than he did, and the last time he'd refused to speak had ended badly.

_[That's none of your business. What do you want?]_

_[Names of people who made it to Hogwarts.]_

_[What's wrong? Your spies taking the day off?]_

_[Your concern is touching.]_

_[I'm pretty sure it's pronounced 'contempt'.]_

_[In any case, spies aren't as useful as you think. They spend weeks at a time picking lint out of their belly buttons rather than actually doing anything, and when they finally do find something out, half the time they can't even get the information to me in time to be useful because they're stuck behind enemy lines.]_

_[I'm still not seeing why I should care about this.]_

_[Because the number of people who I know are in Hogwarts plus the number of people who I know are not is much lower than that number as of a month ago. The difference haven't _all_ been killed by Kam. If I have more information, then if ever you or I try a rescue mission, we'll be better prepared.]_

_[You know who Kam is?]_

_[I know _what_ he is. I'm not one hundred percent certain of his motivations yet, although I can take an educated guess.]_

_[Well?]_

_[You really don't want to know.]_

_[Don't tell me you're _afraid _of him?]_

_['Afraid' is a strong word, but … he's a complete monster.]_

_[Those who live in glass houses …]_

_[I'm just a megalomaniac. There's nothing wrong with that; ambition isn't evil, no matter how much Gryffindors like to pretend it is. But that _thing_ –]_

_[What even is he? A half-giant?]_

_[You'll just go and tell the Order, and I don't think any of them knows yet. Really, almost everyone on your side is pretty incompetent. Of course, I'm willing to negotiate …]_

_[If I hadn't just had a lecture about helping you, I might actually consider that.]_

_[You're actually going to refuse to help me rescue people kidnapped by the sacrificers? Are you really that stubborn?]_

_[If you weren't obviously planning on using the information to have a head count of our forces so you'd know exactly who's still outside who you could attack, or for some other tactically important reason, maybe, or if I thought they'd be hugely better off in your captivity. Cho was tortured, you know.]_

_[That was Bella, not me. Do you really think I'd authorise something so unproductive?]_

_[If it would be good for your right-hand minion's morale and the victim wasn't valuable to you? Do you really want an honest answer to that?]_

_[…]_

_[If you really did want me to help with another rescue mission and if we would keep the captives, I might consider that, if you could somehow provide a guarantee that you wouldn't double-cross me.]_

_[Oh? You'd fly out under your fantastic Invisibility Cloak again?]_

Harry slammed his Occlumency barrier down, got up, and took off in the direction Moody had gone at a run.

He saw no-one. After all, it was summer; even those who weren't still working on the greenhouses and other projects were outside, enjoying the sunshine or playing four-way Quidditch. He had to ask the paintings for advice.

"That way; I think he went upstairs," said a giggly portrait of a fourteen-year-old girl eating a banana. Soon he was outside a row of rooms on the second floor. He walked until he found the door where the wall opposite was pockmarked.

He drew his wand, knocked, and dived out of the way; a barrage of hexes shot out at him. Moody opened the door a moment later; each held their wand on the other.

"You're under Imperius," Harry accused.

"That so?" asked Moody.

They glared at one another.

"Are you going to say _why_ you think that?" Moody asked.

"Because I know you can't throw it off, and the Map said you weren't an impostor," Harry said. "Voldemort just thought at me, gloating that he knew I didn't have my Cloak any more. You're the most obvious weak link."

Moody lowered his wand. "The most obvious, yeah. But it's not me."

"Prove it," said Harry.

Moody's lips twisted upward. "Better," he said. He pulled a bottle out of his robes and threw it to Harry.

He examined it. It was small and blue; atop it was a seal, on which was written: 'Fortify Willpower 80pts/10sec – PP, 20/6/96'.

"You recognise the handwriting?" asked Moody.

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, who'd read enough of her prescriptions over the years. He wedged it in the crook of his injured hand and tapped it with his wand; no easily detectable tampering. He threw the bottle back. "You just happened to have that on you?"

"I never leave my room without it, these days," said Moody. He tore off the seal and downed the potion. "Quadruple-checked the recipe, obviously. I still wouldn't trust Snape an inch, but that thing's been damn useful."

"Hmm." Harry pocketed his wand. "My second guess was that you had a spying ward in here."

Moody shook his head. "I seriously doubt that. I've randomly switched rooms twice already, and my personal security is the best in the castle. If he's still spying on me, he's literally omniscient. My second guess would be that the Weasley girl was attacked en route here."

"If someone found her – in a ten-minute window, while she was invisible – why didn't they take her hostage? She's the daughter of the leader of the Order of the Phoenix; she'd be hugely valuable as –"

_Trigger Ginny bomb._

"Don't answer that question," Harry amended. "Let's just find her."

"I have the Map," said Moody, "and it'll be better if I don't have to worry about anyone else getting in the way. You need to go back to the meeting room. Granger's waiting there for you. I'll handle checking her and the other suspects for mind effects."

"The other suspects?"

"Granger, Delacour, and Molly Weasley. They were all at the Burrow when you gave Ginny the Cloak; if any of them told Him, he could easily guess that I'd see her entering and that I'd confiscate it."

Harry thought this rather unlikely.

"Also, when and where did she tell you I'd taken the Cloak?"

"Inside the new greenhouse, this morning. Hermione and Cho were the only others in earshot. We dosed Cho with the same potion two nights ago and we or Sirius' friend Emily were with her the entire time until she got here, and I can guarantee that neither she nor Hermione is working for Voldemort."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Moody. "There were people all around the greenhouse. Do you know if any of them can read lips?"

"I've never asked," said Harry. This was clearly getting into the domain of the intractably paranoid. "I'd better not keep Hermione waiting; she has a _huge_ temper."

… … …

"_Harry!_ What were you _thinking?_"

"That Mad-Eye Moody was under Imperius again and plotting against us all," he said.

"What? Why did you think that?" Hermione asked.

"Voldemort was playing with my head again."

She huffed. "You mean you were doing that telepathic thing again. That's exactly why the Board and Order don't trust you."

"They don't trust me because I spent the past twelve months as a mole. They don't need another reason."

"Well, then, full steam ahead and load the cannons," she said sarcastically.

"Are you going to tell me what our sentences are?" he asked.

"They _were_ three months' probation each," she said. "Until they realised that not only had you run off without telling them, but you'd mistreated the mendicant's wig, and extended yours to twelve months."

"What's with those things, anyway?"

"They're traditional. They're mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_, they're supposed to symbolise – don't try to derail me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Harry. "Am I missing something? We helped murder the hero of the Light, and we don't even get suspended?"

"Mr Weasley," Hermione said. "There's a zero tolerance policy for Dark sympathisers –"

Harry snorted.

"– yes, I thought the same thing, but the Board was going to expel us anyway, until he pointed out that they couldn't make you leave the grounds for fear that Voldemort would get his hands on you, and Professor McGonagall argued that if you were going to be around here either way, you'd be less likely to get into trouble if you had NEWT classes five days a week."

"She really doesn't know me very well, does she," he said.

Hermione nodded. "Then Fleur gave this horribly melodramatic speech about righteousness, and how it would have been hypocritical to expel me and let you off." She smirked. "Vane had her thrown out for talking while not wearing the hat, but they put it to a vote and the three men all did exactly what Fleur said. So we're fine, as long as you don't get caught doing anything stupid."

"Who, me?"

They reached one of the balconies overlooking the grounds. The new greenhouses had more structure by now, with more of the glass permanently in place and fewer charms stabilising the environment, and more variety of plants. There had been lengthy arguments about what to grow; everyone had argued in favour of their personal favourites, the people actually doing the work wanted ones that gave most yield for the least effort, and those who were helping raise the greenhouses suggested crops with high yield per area. Daphne had wanted cash crops, Madam Pomfrey gave in-depth descriptions of nutritional balance, and Snape had submitted a detailed list of ingredients he needed for his work. There hadn't been enough time to properly decide how to do things efficiently, and the end result was less horticulture and more half-controlled chaos. It was hoped that, once things settled down and they weren't worrying where the next meal would come from, they might sort things out.

Hermione slipped an arm around Harry's waist. She pulled him against a wall, stretched upward, and kissed him.

Harry wrapped one arm under hers to hold her up, and another against the small of her back, pressing her flush against him; she put a hand against his cheek, and her other pushed his robe aside to get under his shirt and against his heart. His eyes slid shut; he felt the zephyr of her breath on his cheek, her body heat seeping through him, her heart beating against his chest. She tasted of pumpkin pie; her sweat smelled oddly sweet. She hummed and pressed herself against him even harder, slipping her hand around behind his head; he tightened his hold and drew his left hand up to comb the tangle of her hair.

After a timeless stretch, she pulled away and tucked her head under his chin. He wasn't quite tall enough, and had to stand an inch on tiptoes to let her.

"What was that?" he asked. His voice was twenty decibels softer than he'd intended.

"Just seeing where we stand," she told his chest.

He stroked her hair. It wasn't excessively long, coming to the bottom of her shoulder blades, but it was frizzy enough to be voluminous and warm. "Mm, and?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said. "I just … the past few days have been hectic, haven't they?"

Harry chuckled. "Just a bit. It's okay. I know you're just stressed."

Apparently she wasn't very comfortable either, because she pulled her head out and instead rested her cheek against his jaw. "We are, you know, a couple, aren't we? As in, you wouldn't consider letting anyone else do that?"

"No, of course not. So I guess we are? I hadn't really thought about it. Why, would you?"

"No. And anyway, who else would I kiss? Seamus?"

"You took Krum to the Yule Ball. You of all people know there are people outside of your House-year."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm well aware of that."

"Huh?"

She pulled away from him. "It's nothing. Should we go back downstairs?"

"Actually, could we stop by the Hospital Wing first?" he said. "Moody will have dragged Ginny there by now, and I want to make sure she's fine."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't heard any screaming or anything, so it's probably nothing, but better safe than sorry," he said.

She intertwined her fingers with his and they went to the Hospital Wing. When Hermione knocked, Madam Pomfrey opened the door, then glanced down at her watch.

"Six hours," she said. "I believe this is a personal best, if not the school record."

"I'm fine," Harry said. He tugged at his hand, but Hermione kept her hold. "We wanted to see if Ginny was okay. And Sirius?"

Ginny poked her head out from behind Madam Pomfrey, none the worse for wear. "I'm fine," she said. "What on Earth got into Moody? We were just talking, and he came out of nowhere and Silenced us both and dragged us here."

Cho appeared behind her, leaning out from the side. "I liked him better when he was a psychotic Death Eater in disguise," she said.

Madam Pomfrey bustled back into the room and began putting empty jars away. "I don't know what he was thinking," she said, "but you're both perfectly fine. And Sirius is stable, but hasn't yet woken."

"May we see him anyway?" asked Harry.

"You may not," said Madam Pomfrey. "I may have stopped the bleeding – finally – but I still don't know exactly what happened to him. My diagnostic magic says the wounds were purely mundane."

"If they were mundane, shouldn't he have been easy to heal?" Hermione asked.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Therefore, my diagnostics are giving false answers. Something _strange_ is going on, and he's to remain strictly isolated until I figure out what."


End file.
